


A Family Occasion

by servantofclio



Series: Family Affairs series [2]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Engagement, F/M, Families of Choice, Meet the Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-05
Updated: 2012-07-25
Packaged: 2017-11-09 05:53:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 23,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/452081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/servantofclio/pseuds/servantofclio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reunited post-ME3, Shepard and Garrus try to sort out their futures, their families, and (perhaps worst of all) a wedding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to "A Family Affair," also originally posted to the ME kinkmeme, somewhat revised from that version. What to expect: a ton of (non-canon) turian culture, Vakarians of varying temperaments, fluff and romance, some family drama.

Shepard had never been particularly girly. Where some girls dreamed about elaborate weddings, with hundreds of guests and white dresses with long trains and diamonds and cake, she hadn’t thought about her hypothetical future wedding much. Since growing up and becoming a marine, she’d thought maybe she would never get married at all. Whenever she’d been drunk enough, or dating someone long enough, to think about it, she’d thought: casual, maybe on the beach, just a few friends.

So she wasn’t really prepared for her current circumstances. She had the diamond, and she’d ordered the cake. Her vague ideas of a wedding had never included the security precautions and political ramifications that were entailed in this particular wedding. Nor had she really thought about the fact that while she had no family to speak of, her prospective spouse might have a large extended family.

What almost broke her, though, was coming out of the dressing room and seeing herself in the mirror, swathed in yards of what she could only call silver lace.

“Oh God,” she said. “I don’t think I can do this.”

Liara frowned at her. “Yes, you can.”

“No, I can’t.”

“You have killed thresher maws and Reapers. You can do this.”

“I can hardly even move in this... frilly... thing, Liara.”

The asari sighed. “We can make the dress simpler, Shepard.”

“But it still has to be lace, right?”

“It doesn’t have to be, but that’s what’s traditional.”

“Then I don’t think I can do this.”

Tali intervened. “Really, Shepard? Lace? You want me to call Garrus up right now and tell him you’re not going through with this, over lace?” Her finger hovered over the button on her omni-tool.

“No. Wait.” Shepard closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and called to mind the reason she was doing this. Garrus. Yes. Who’d supported her every step of the way, who hardly ever complained, who almost never asked for anything for himself, and who’d wanted this: a traditional wedding in which they not only joined themselves to each other, but she also formally joined the Vakarian clan. She still didn’t fully understand why a self-proclaimed “bad turian” was so invested in doing things the traditional way, but if this was what he wanted...

Then again, maybe Garrus had always been a better turian than he thought.

She opened her eyes and looked at her ring. His gift, the dark blue stone shining at her from the simple setting she’d chosen. She looked at her reflection again. “Okay,” she said. “Just how simple a dress can we get away with, here? And what’s the minimum amount of lace? Shall we call up Solana to consult?”

 

**_Four months earlier_ **

So maybe she’d said yes a little precipitously, because she’d been thinking of it ever since his father gravely welcomed her to the family, and because she’d been so damned glad to see Garrus again. After a languorous night spent getting re-acquainted, she and Garrus joined Solana and their father for a breakfast that had been... awkward, with the two men obviously hugely relieved to see each other and yet stiffly trying to avoid any subjects that might provoke an argument. Fortunately they’d had plenty of neutral subjects to talk about, getting Garrus up to speed on the events of the last few months.

She’d had one task she wanted to accomplish that day, and by some miracle, she managed to find a jeweler on the Citadel who could set the stone to her specifications and have it ready by the end of the day. Having done that, she fidgeted her way through another tedious day of Alliance debriefing, met up with Garrus to collect her ring (a perfect fit), and headed out to meet with the rest of the Normandy crew for drinks.

Shepard had probably never hugged so many people in one day before. Not just Tali and Liara, but practically the entire crew. Ashley had joined up with them, too, and they were enough to take over a back room of the bar. Once everyone had their first drink, Shepard stood up and caught their attention. “Yeah, I’m not going to make a big speech here,” she said. “I just wanted to say that I’m so glad you all made it back, and that I couldn’t be prouder of this crew.” She waited for the cheers to subside. “And I guess I just have a little announcement, because I thought you all should be among the first to know that, um, Garrus and I are getting married.”

The roar that ensued was so loud and enthusiastic it caught her completely off guard. Tali squealed and flung herself at Shepard, and James slapped Garrus on the shoulder hard enough to knock him off balance, saying something to him that Shepard couldn’t hear over the din. She accepted congratulations from every side, a little dazed. She’d known, on some level, that people knew about their relationship, even though they tried to be professional and discreet in public, but she hadn’t realized just how much her mostly-human crew _approved_.

Liara caught her in a hug, her soft cheek pressing briefly against Shepard’s. “Shepard, I am really so happy for both of you,” she said, smiling. “Well, happy to see you alive, too. It was hard, not having any news.”

“Thanks,” she said. She looked around the room, where everybody was talking and drinking, and Ken was actually dancing, a... jig, or something? “I hadn’t realized the crew cared that much.”

“Oh, Shepard. Of course we care. You're... you. Does anyone have a more fanatically loyal crew? And Garrus kept us going, the last two months, and everyone knew he was worried sick about you, even though he never complained. Of course we care.” She looked at Shepard very seriously. “If there’s anything I can do to help, please tell me.”

“Bridesmaids,” Shepard blurted. “I mean, I don’t know the turian customs, but for a human wedding I’d have bridesmaids. It’s supposed to be your closest friends, and I thought you and Tali...”

“Of course,” said Liara. “Whatever that means. Wait, you’re doing this turian style? Of course I’ll help.”

Samantha Traynor popped up at Shepard’s elbow then, to gush over the ring: “It is absolutely the most beautiful thing, and so perfect for you, Commander!” A few minutes later Dr. Chakwas appeared with a glass of Serrice Ice brandy for Shepard, and Liara pulled Sam off into the crowd.

“It’s nice to have something good to celebrate,” Chakwas said, lifting her own glass. “Congratulations. You both deserve all the happiness in the world.”

“Victory isn’t enough to celebrate? But thank you.” Their glasses clinked together. 

“How are you doing?” Chakwas asked as they finished their drinks, looking Shepard over with a professional eye.

“All right. I think it’s the two months of inactivity that are bothering me, as much as anything else.”

Chakwas nodded. “It’s amazing how quickly it has an effect. I would like to give you an examination soon, Shepard.”

“Sure. The doctors took good care of me, and Miranda was a big help, but I’d be glad to have you take a look.” It was a relief, actually. Chakwas probably knew Shepard’s body better than she did herself.

Then Joker and Ken were loudly demanding a kiss, and Shepard found herself pushed in Garrus’s direction. His eyes met hers and he shrugged, with a slightly wry expression, and she found she was buzzed enough that she didn’t mind winding her arms around his neck and planting one on him in full view of a room full of rowdy crew members. “Hope you don’t mind,” she murmured into his ear. He wasn’t usually very demonstrative in public.

“Special occasion,” he replied, tipping his forehead against hers, and she smiled.

The only false note in the evening was when Ash pulled her aside. “Hey, Skipper,” she said. “I’m glad you’re back, and I’m glad they’re back, but... are you really sure about this?”

Shepard stared at her, and the smile she’d been wearing all evening faded. “Of course I am,” she said. “Why wouldn’t I be?” Her eyes narrowed. “Is this about the cross-species thing?”

Ashley flinched. “Look, Shepard, I like Garrus fine. I do. He’s a good soldier and a good guy. But being friends with an alien is not the same as...”

“I thought you knew we were together.”

“Yeah, Joker said something, but... marriage seems like such a big step, especially to a turian, and especially when you’re, you know, a famous hero.”

“Now you sound like a politican,” said Shepard.

Ash groaned. “Oh, that was a low blow.”

“Look, Ash. He’s my best friend and I love him. He’s always been there for me. If that doesn’t make it make sense to you, then I don’t know what to say.”

She hesitated and nodded. “Okay. I’m sorry I’m being a downer. I mean, as long as you’re happy, that’s what matters, so... congratulations and best wishes and all that.”

“Thanks,” said Shepard, and meant it, but she still felt a little twist of irritation at Ashley’s question. She was relieved when Tali came bouncing up to her a moment later, EDI trailing after her with a series of questions about the social behavior of organics, which kept Shepard occupied for a while. Tali was completely delighted with the idea of being a bridesmaid, too, so much that Shepard had to call Garrus over to ask him if she could even have bridesmaids. She was immensely relieved when he blinked at her and said he didn’t see why not.

By the end of the evening, half of the crew, including Shepard, was drunk and giggly, Ashley and James were engaged in a fierce pool competition, and Liara and Traynor were making out in a corner. Garrus dropped onto the bench beside Shepard and she curled herself into his warm shoulder. “We made it,” he said quietly.

“Yeah,” she said, and the memory of those who weren’t with them any more made her eyes burn. She slid her arm around him, fiercely glad that he, at least, was here.


	2. Chapter 2

A day later Shepard had managed to finish reviewing her final report for the Alliance and the Council. Having turned it in, she should be free of questioning for the forseeable future. She was still on medical leave and immediately put in for personal leave, to begin when her medical leave finished. She’d flat-out retire if she had to, in order to get some free time, though she’d prefer not to cut her ties to the military. She pushed the button on the terminal in her hotel room to send it off and spun the chair around with a smile of satisfaction. “Done,” she announced to Garrus, across the room. “I’m all yours.”

He looked up from the news accounts he was still catching up with. “Good. Have you, uh, had a chance to go over the files I sent you?”

Shepard felt vaguely disappointed. Usually announcing she was all his led to something more fun than reviewing files. “No, I haven’t. Do you want me to do that now?”

“I’d appreciate it.” Seeming to know what she was thinking, he added, “I know it’s not the most, uh, pleasant thing we could be doing, but, well... we do have some plans to make, and I want to be sure you know what you’re getting into.”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” she admitted. “I’ll take a look.”

A short time later, she said, “Wow, this is a bit more of a production than I realized.” 

He rose out of his chair and started pacing. “Well, I tried to tell you... if you’d rather not go through with the whole thing, I’d understand...”

He wasn’t quite meeting her eyes, and she knew him well enough that the tension in his muscles was plain to read. She got up and planted herself in his path. When he stopped short in front of her, she reached for him, laying her left hand on the irregular roughness of his scars, reaching her right to the back of his neck so she could gently bring his head down against hers. “Garrus, I want us to be together. It’s not that. I just don’t know the customs. Help me understand what we’re getting into here.”

He relaxed a little. “There’s two parts, really. Bonding ourselves to each other is really the simpler part. We make promises to each other in the sight of witnesses. There’s some traditional wording, but variations are acceptable.”

Shepard nodded, which had the effect of rubbing her forehead against his. “That doesn’t sound too different from the human customs I know, though I imagine the words are different. There are traditional vows for us, too, but a lot of people write their own.”

“There are some legalities you should be aware of, just so you know what obligations and privileges we have. I don’t want you to be obligated to anything you don’t want.”

She leaned into him a little and smiled at his catch of breath. “Believe me, I’m not going after anything I don’t want, love.” 

“Well, that’s always good to hear,” he said, a bit of teasing drawl returning to his voice, one arm slipping around her back.

“So what’s the second part?”

He sighed. “That’s the more complicated part. I asked you to join my clan. Dad gave his approval. But joining the clan needs to happen on clan property, with the whole clan assenting, and it comes with certain responsibilities. You’d have duties to the whole clan, not just to me.” 

“Okay...” Shepard said slowly. “What kind of duties?”

“Well, your rank and performance of your service would reflect on the clan, and they could intervene if you weren’t fulfilling the duties of your work properly.”

“Right, I’ve read about that. Your private life isn’t supposed to interfere with your work, right?”

“Yeah. I don’t think that’ll really be a problem for you. Beyond that, we’re supposed to help clan members who are in need, we have some responsibilities to help train the younger generation, and so forth.”

“That doesn’t sound so scary,” said Shepard. “Human families help each other out, too.”

“Turian clans are serious about these duties, though. You should look carefully at the contractual language there. You can be held legally responsible and penalized for failing to live up to your clan obligations, and they tend to increase as you get older. So I’m still a young adult, and...” He grimaced, his mandible flexing against her palm, “... that means they can overlook things like my disappearing for two years, as long as I shape up and carry out my duties better in the future.”

Shepard frowned, her left hand sliding down to his shoulder. “They can’t possibly have any problems with your service during the war, can they?”

“No. Actually, I’ve jumped so many citizenship tiers in the last few months that I don’t remember what my tier is any more.” His talons scratched lightly up and down her back, the way she liked. 

“Mm. That feels nice. And if I’m reading this right, it’s reciprocal? Which is why your dad claimed me as part of the family already.”

“Yeah, that’s right.”

She smiled. “So I’ve already benefited from clan protection, and I really should return the favor. Is there anything else?”

He hesitated, and his hand stilled. “Once you’re in the clan, it’s hard for you to leave, or, ah, dissolve the marriage.”

“I don’t see that as an issue.”

“I just...” He sighed. “Jane, I know you said yes already, but if you’d rather not go through with joining the clan, we can still stay together. I really want you to be sure about this.”

She opened her mouth to speak, and he actually put his free hand over her mouth. “Don’t say something just to reassure me. I need to know that you’ve thought about it.”

So she did, though she frowned against his fingers. It still really didn’t sound that much different from a lot of human families. She had to admit that the sense of obligation made her a little nervous. She’d been orphaned young and on her own for a long time. For most of her life, what she had was a family of choice: her friends and comrades-in-arms. The Reds, when she was younger. Now, her team and crew. And Garrus, most of all; but he would have responsibilities to the Vakarian clan even if she didn’t, so she really couldn’t attach herself only to him and not the rest of the family. “You say you’re okay if I don’t join the clan, but it seems like it’s really important to you.”

He tensed a bit and twitched, but it was hard for him to avoid her eyes when they were face to face like this. “Yeah. It’s... hard to explain. I just... you deserve it. I don’t have much, besides my place in the family, and I... want to give you as much as I can.”

“That’s sweet,” she said softly. “I don’t need anything but you, Garrus, but I’m glad to do this since it’s important to you.” He breathed out a long sigh of relief, and she could feel him relaxing into her touch. 

So she struck, darting one hand down and under his shirt, stroking the sensitive skin between his plates, the other teasing at the back of his neck and head. She got a full-throated groan for her efforts, and pulled him down to the bed with her. He made very little effort to resistas she worked his clothing off, planting kisses along his mandibles and throat as she went. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes, rumbling in pleasure, his fingers fumbling at the buttons of her clothes without making much progress. He shifted just enough for her to slide his pants down, and she applied her mouth to his loosening pelvic plates. Once she’d verified that she didn’t have any adverse reaction to him, teasing him open with her tongue had become one of her favorite things to do. She liked the odd metallic-smoky-sweet taste and the slightly rough texture of his skin, and the way he hummed and squirmed under her. She liked it enough that she was getting wet herself. With one hand, she unfastened her pants and slipped her fingers into her underwear. 

When he finally emerged, hard and hot and slick, he didn’t let her continue to lick him, but hauled her up with effortless strength, pressing his mouth against her and licking at her lips until she let him in. “Off,” he murmured, pulling at her pants until she obliged, wriggling out of them and her underwear both. She still had her shirt on, but found she didn’t care as he rubbed against her, his cock parting her labia while his fingers worked at her clit, and then he pushed into her with a growl, and she gave up thinking entirely for a while.

Later, as they lay sprawled on the bed in a warm pile, Shepard said, “So, when do you want to do this?”

Garrus opened one eye at her. “Soon? Of course, Palaven’s a mess, so it’ll take some time to find a place and notify the family, with everyone so scattered, but... within six months, say?”

“Sounds good to me. I’ll look over the legal stuff and ask you questions. Listen, humans usually have a reception with a wedding. Food and drink and maybe dancing, time to relax after the formalities and have a party with friends. Can we do that?”

“Definitely. Though I make no promises about the dancing.” 

“That’s not the important part. I just really want to have time with our friends, too. Have the team there.”

“Of course,” he said, quietly. 

“So three parts, then: wedding ceremony, clan-joining, and the party.”

“It’s a plan. We should get in touch with the rest of the family and make plans to go to Palaven so they can meet you. I don’t think it’ll be a problem to get their assent, but the sooner we talk to them about it, the better.”

“Mm.” Shepard lay quietly for a while, enjoying the warmth and the feel of him against her, and then the last thing he’d said finally registered. “Wait a minute... what?”

# 

“Garrus tried to explain it to me, but I don’t think I get it,” Shepard said to Solana, later. “You said your dad granted his permission, but the rest of the family can veto it?”

Solana’s eyes flickered to the explanation popping up on her omni-tool. “No, that’s not it. Not exactly. But adult clan members do have to assent to accept a new member into the clan.”

“So there’s going to be a vote, or something?”

“That’s not quite it, either. I mean, it sort of is, but it’s not one-person-one-vote. Each person’s opinion is weighted, based on their standing in the family and their proximity to the person requesting the joining.”

Shepard sighed and rubbed the back of her neck. “Okay. Can you walk me through this?”

“I’ll try. Garrus wants to bring you in to the clan, so he’s the one making the request. That also means his opinion counts the most. Dad’s voice and mine are the next most important. After that, it’s dad’s brother, and works out from there to the various uncles and aunts and cousins. Each person’s citizenship tier also figures into it.”

Shepard frowned. This sounded like it was going to need a lot of math to figure out. “So how many votes do we need?”

Solana shook her head. “You need to not worry about this. Think of it this way: you need to meet the family and let them get to know you a bit. Humans do that, right?”

“Sure,” said Shepard, a little uncertainly. She’d never really gotten to the “meet the family” stage in any of her previous relationships.

“Our generation will mostly be fine with it. Dad will work on his brother and cousins. Some of the relatives will assent based on your reputation. Others will want to meet you and make sure you’re taking all this seriously. I can only think of a couple of relatives, mostly older ones, who are likely to make much of a fuss.” 

“I just can’t believe that we make up our minds, and make all these plans, and someone else can just stop it by saying no.”

Solana said firmly, “That’s not going to happen. I mean, in the worst case, we’ll cancel that part of the ceremony, but you’ll still get married, and you’ll still have your party after. And the worst case is not going to happen. We’ve got this, Shepard.”

Shepard bit her lip and tried not to fret. She trusted Garrus completely, and she trusted Solana a lot, but she hated situations she wasn’t in control of.

#

It was, of course, only a matter of time before the news got out. The Normandy’s return had already made a splash in the news, and so had her continued survival. Everything she did was big news now, and Garrus, along with much of the rest of the Normandy crew, were also treated as celebrities, and so anything they did together was obviously a hot item. Shepard wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry when the reporters began badgering her with questions about her relationship instead of the Reapers. But she was especially annoyed when one particular reporter ambushed her in the midst of a routine interview about the end of the Reaper War.

“And on another note, Commander,” said Khalisah bint Sinan al-Jilani, “what do you say to the recent accusations that you’re turning your back on humanity by marrying an alien?”

Shepard stared at the woman and tried to arrange her expression from stony back to pleasant. She’d thought she and al-Jilani had come to an accord during the war, but no, now that the fighting was over, she was back to being a pain in the ass.

“Ms. al-Jilani,” she said firmly, “We have only just emerged from a war in which all the we all had to depend on each other. Setting aside centuries of antagonism, krogan joined with turians in the defense of Palaven. All of the space-faring species came together and shed blood during the Battle of Earth. I, for one, look forward to a future in which our differences matter less than camaraderie, friendship, and striving toward a common cause. I will always be human, and yes, I am marrying a turian. He’s been a close friend for several years, and he’s someone whose service to the galaxy has been honored by the Council, the turian Hierarchy, _and_ the Systems Alliance.”

Al-Jilani’s lips drew into a thin line. “Thank you for your comment, Commander.”

The human media seemed split. Half of the human news sites were spinning the story as a fairytale romance: the Savior of the Galaxy and Her Faithful Lieutenant. There was even an unauthorized, hasty, low-budget vid made that Joker insisted she watch because of its “glorious cheesiness.” (Movie-Garrus kept insisting on confessing his love to her at horribly inopportune times, such as during the Battle of the Citadel. The real Garrus was not amused.) The other half were tending toward outrage that the Savior of Earth wasn’t settling down with a mate of her own species. The turian media seemed more resigned to the marriage itself, if not always enthusiastic (Garrus shrugged when she noted this and pointed out that there was nothing unusual about turians bonding with asari), but the business with her actually joining the clan garnered a lot more discussion and controversy. The asari gossip sites mostly seemed disappointed that this meant both of them were off the market.

Even after seeing the mixed reactions of the media, and having a discussion with Victus and the acting human councilor about the potential political consequences, the first death threat came as a shock. Shepard opened it with the rest of her messages and found herself transfixed, somewhere between rage and horror, as she read in vicious detail exactly how some anonymous bigot wanted to violate her and slaughter Garrus. She almost deleted the message before she came to her senses and notified EDI instead. As an afterthought, she sent a copy to Liara, too. 

She got up and paced around the room, shaking. She needed to shoot something, or punch something, or...

The door slid open behind her, and Garrus said, sounding relaxed, “Hey, there you are. I was wondering if... what’s wrong?”

Shepard froze. Oh God. She didn’t want to tell him, and he could read her way too well. He’d already crossed the distance to her, and was gently turning her around with a hand on her shoulder. “What is it? You can tell me.”

To her embarrassment, she burst into tears. Garrus’s mandibles flared in alarm, but he pulled her in, arms firm around her, and she tucked her head between his jaw and his collar. He didn’t say anything, simply held her. It was shockingly comforting. She managed to get herself under control after a little while and explained.

Garrus read the message, and it was hard to tell what he was thinking. His mandibles flexed slowly, and something subtle shifted around his eyes. His hand closed around hers tightly, and she could feel the tension running through him, but all he said was: “We should report this to security. C-Sec, turian command, probably Alliance Command, too.” She thought there was a deeper growl than usual underlying his speaking voice.

“Oh God,” she said. “Do we have to? I asked Liara to look into it.”

“It’s a risk to us, but not just to us. Amateur assassins are just as likely to injure bystanders as their targets. They’ll want to put an extra security detail on us.”

She hated the idea of needing someone else to protect her. “I can take care of myself.”

“Against a random amateur, yeah. And this probably is just a random amateur. Or some bigot who won’t actually do what he’s said.” Carefully, he closed the message. “But this is not likely to be the last. On the off chance they’re serious, we should take this seriously, too.”

“I killed Kai Leng,” she said, still feeling belligerent.

He turned that incredibly blue stare on her. “That guy liked posturing. I doubt either you or I could have stopped Thane at full strength if he seriously wanted one of us dead. Plus, Leng did plenty of damage to plenty of people along the way.”

“Fine,” she sighed, knowing he was right, and let him make the necessary calls.

She took Garrus down to the Spectre offices after that, and they both worked off some frustration at the shooting range. And after _that_ , Garrus brought her back to their room and they worked off even more frustration. He took her, she thought, with an extra edge of possessiveness, and she didn’t mind at all. 

They did have extra security trailing them around the Citadel from that point on. The wedding itself was going to have to have fairly tight security, provided by the turian military. Part of her wanted to defy any would-be assassins: _Go ahead. Attack my wedding, attended by many of the toughest and most dangerous people in the galaxy._ The more sensible part of her knew that it was foolish to run that risk, that she would hate herself forever if her stubbornness caused the death of a friend or an innocent bystander. So she gritted her teeth and dealt with the security measures.


	3. Chapter 3

Back before the Reaper War, Shepard and Garrus had talked about going to Palaven sometime.

_It was surprisingly comfortable to sprawl over him, she was finding, lulled by the heat of his body and the sound of his voice. “We can go hiking. There’s a mountain range in the south with breathtaking views. Desert on one side and jungle on the other.”_

_“Never figured you for the hiking type,” she said. “I thought you were a city boy.”_

_“What made you think that?”_

_She half shrugged, almost too lazy even for that slight movement. “I dunno. I suppose I associate you with the Citadel or Omega. Bustling places full of people.”_

_“No. The family home is a bit outside the city, and we used to spend a lot of time outside when Dad was home from C-Sec.”_

_“Won’t I get fried, out in the sun?”_

_“We’ll set you up with an anti-radiation dispenser and you’ll be fine. Plus, we can go hiking at night, when the moons are bright.”_

_That had sounded almost unbearably romantic, Shepard recalled._

She certainly hadn’t expected, back then, that her first trip to Palaven would look like this.

The worst of the dust from the Reapers’ bombardment of the planet had settled, but the air quality was still poor enough that she wore her helmet along with her armor. The public transit lines hadn’t yet been repaired, so they were jouncing along in a military-grade all-terrain vehicle that reminded her painfully of the Mako. They passed work crews busy rebuilding vital water and power systems in a landscape full of ash and rubble. It had taken weeks after the end of the war just to put the worst of the fires out. Garrus, looking out the vehicle’s small window, was silent, and she couldn’t read his expression through his helmet. She reached for his hand anyway, and his return grip was tight.

Despite the destruction that surrounded them, she’d been glad to get off the Citadel. On one side were the reporters who kept wanting to talk to her, and all the people who wanted her as spokesperson for their charitable causes. On the other side were the threats she couldn’t quite stop being antsy about. Liara and Traynor had taken over filtering Shepard’s mail, sending the personal messages on to her and sorting out the fan mail and the hostile mail. Liara had also promised to do what she could to look into any threats and do something about the ones that seemed credible. Even so, they’d still probably be safer on Palaven, especially since they were bound to a relatively isolated country estate. 

_“Well,” Callex Vakarian had said, when the four of them had met to discuss the logistics. “I’ve sent out the notices, and gotten replies from most of the family. There have been a few losses, of course. It also turns out there is an estate owned by the clan that’s still standing and sufficiently large to accommodate the family meeting and the additional festivities.”_

_Shepard was just relieved that he hadn’t voiced any objection to her desire to have a reception, with a lot more human (and krogan, and asari, etc.) guests. She waited for him to continue. He didn’t. Garrus and Solana exchanged glances._

_“But?” Solana asked, warily._

_He sighed. “It’s Livia’s estate.”_

_Garrus made a clicking noise. Shepard glanced at him and found his face oddly unreadable. Solana said, “I suppose that makes sense. It was largely off the grid, anyway.”_

_“Is this a problem?” asked Shepard._

_The three Vakarians were silent for a moment, before Garrus said, “Aunt Livia is... old-fashioned.”_

_“She’s very... strict,” Solana added._

_Shepard looked at their father, who seemed to have nothing to add to this. “Uh-huh,” she said. “And I’m guessing she doesn’t like humans much?”_

_Garrus fidgeted. “She’s had some strong things to say on the subject of human aggressiveness.”_

_“She has agreed to allow the use of the estate,” said Callex. “Let us give her a chance.”_

_Garrus looked down at the floor, with an expression that Shepard thought she recognized:_ I really don’t think this is going to work. _Solana openly snorted. “Do you really think she’ll assent, Dad?”_

_Shepard looked toward him, curious to see his reaction. “No,” he admitted. “That doesn’t mean she can’t be civil.”_

_“If she chooses to be,” Solana muttered. Shepard tried to swallow her apprehension. It helped when Garrus’s hand found hers with a gentle squeeze._

The vehicle came to a halt at the end of a dusty road, in front of a wide, two-story building. It wasn’t ostentatious, but Shepard knew it was larger than it looked, with a central courtyard and wings extending back from the road. It was made of stone, which had the advantage of blocking most of Trebia’s dangerous radiation.

The vehicle’s hatch opened and in peered a turian with familiar blue markings, a half-healed slash across his left cheekplate. “Hey there, cousins,” he said. 

Solana hopped out and laid her hand on his shoulder. “How are you, Tycus?”

“On my feet, so I’m not complaining.” Once they were all out, Shepard could see that he was a bit shorter and broader than Garrus.

The latter cleared his throat. “Ah, Jane, this is our cousin, Lieutenant Tycus Vakarian. Son of Dad’s brother Cassus.”

Tycus offered his hand for a human-style handshake. “Commander Shepard. It’s nice to meet you after all the stories.”

Shepard accepted the shake and raised her eyebrows. “Stories?”

Garrus coughed. “I, ah, might have said a thing or two about some of our previous missions.”

Tycus laughed. “A thing or two. Or sixty.”

Shepard was about to respond, but the next instant something careened into her legs. When she looked down, she found it was a child: about waist-high, all gangly limbs and bright eyes. Her markings were blue, but different, a little simpler, Shepard noticed. The kid was babbling, “You must be Commander Shepard! Are you? Are you really?”

“I am,” Shepard confirmed, amused.

“Did you really blow up a mass relay?”

“Pella!” said Solana sharply.

“What?” the kid asked, during her gaze on Solana.

Shepard crouched down so she was closer to eye level. “I did,” she confirmed. “I wish I hadn’t had to.”

The child regarded her solemnly. “Did you really kill all the Reapers?”

“That I don’t really remember,” Shepard said. “I killed one on Rannoch, though.”

The child’s eyes grew wider.

“You and the combined might of the quarian fleet,” said Garrus, reaching out a hand to ruffle the girl’s fringe, still soft, flexible, and undeveloped. “What, don’t I get a greeting?”

Pella squirmed away from his hand. “Did you bring me anything, cousin Garrus?”

“ _Pella_ ,” said Solana again. “That’s rude.”

“I brought you Commander Shepard,” Garrus pointed out, ignoring his sister.

The girl cocked her head to the side, considering. “That’s pretty good,” she allowed. Her eyes widened again. “Did you come here in the Normandy?” She looked up, as if she might see the ship hovering ahead.

“We did,” Shepard confirmed, “but we came down in a shuttle, and then we drove here.”

“Oh.” She looked disappointed, her small mandibles tilting down. She was much easier to read than adult turians, Shepard was finding.

“She’s coming back, though,” Shepard added hastily. “And my pilot’s coming to the ceremony.”

Pella brightened. “Oh! Can I ask him lots of questions?”

Solana looked dubious, but Shepard had no compunction whatsoever about siccing the juvenile turian on Joker. “Sure.”

“Pella!” A turian woman came jogging out of the house. “Stop bothering the guests. They must be tired after all that travel.”

“It’s fine, really,” said Shepard, as the girl looked downright rebellious. Shepard was sure the kid would be pouting if her mouth were capable of curling in that way.

“You’re supposed to be cleaning up that mess you made,” said the woman, coming up next to them. “Go on inside, now. You can ask the commander questions later.”

The girl sighed and retreated into the house, steps dragging. The woman sighed, too, and also offered her hand for a shake. “I’m Cephia. Pella there is my daughter. I should apologize for her behavior, Commander, but she’s just seven, and she’s been difficult with her father gone.”

“It was really no trouble,” Shepard assured her, taking her hand. “And Shepard is fine. I’m sorry for your loss.”

Cephia nodded and turned to greet Solana and Garrus, quick embraces, brushing cheek and mandible together. She was a little shorter than Solana, with a build that seemed more delicate, somehow. Shepard was half listening to the cousins exchanging greetings when she found her attention drawn back to the entrance of the building, where a tall, thin form was advancing slowly toward them. A ripple of tension seemed to run through the four cousins surrounding her. “Better not make her walk all the way out here,” murmured Tycus.

“Right.” Garrus took Shepard’s arm and started toward the house, Solana and the others trailing a little behind them. 

This must be Livia Vakarian, Shepard realized. She was taller than Solana, nearly as tall as Garrus, but very thin. She carried a cane, though she didn’t seem to be resting much weight on it. Her plates were a little chipped and cracked with age—she was nearly a hundred years old, Garrus had said—but her facial markings were as crisp and sharp as if they’d been painted yesterday. Perhaps they had.

Garrus said, carefully deferential, “Aunt Livia. Thank you for having us.”

“It is my honor to provide shelter in these times,” she said in a dry voice. “And you must be Commander Shepard.”

Shepard felt pinned in place by the old turian’s pale-eyed stare. “I am,” she said. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

Livia looked her up and down, and her face betrayed no reaction whatsoever. “It has been some time since this household has had non-turian guests. I hope the accommodations will prove suitable. Commander, you are in the rear wing, which is furnished for non-turian guests. Solana, Garrus, you’re in the south wing, as usual.”

As she turned and started back toward the house, Shepard faltered and tugged on Garrus to whisper, “Is she seriously giving us separate rooms?”

“I told you she was old-fashioned,” he murmured back. “I can ask her to change the arrangements, though.”

Shepard sighed. “No. We’ll manage, right? It’s really only for a few weeks, after all.”

“Right.”

“Dinner is served promptly at six,” Livia informed them, over her shoulder.

The rest of the day was something of a blur. Shepard got a tour of the estate from Livia herself, with Garrus and Solana in tow. The place was dignified, with simple, restrained architecture, and rooms chock full of family mementos, whose history Livia explained in mind-numbing detail. Shepard dutifully admired everything, hoping there was not going to be a quiz. She had only a moment to throw her bag into her room and catch her breath before having to report for dinner, where she discovered that there were nearly a dozen more Vakarians in residence. She wasn’t sure if they were there just to meet her or were staying longer, perhaps due to the destruction of so many of Palaven’s cities. She felt a certain sinking sensation at realizing that, duh, they all wore the same familiar dark-blue markings, and more than that, they tended to have the same coloring and pale blue eyes. In short, she had to find some other way to tell them apart and remember which cousin or uncle was which. She felt a little guilty about doing it, but she ended up relying on scars and half-healed injuries, since a good number of them had served in the recent war in some capacity.

She was pleasantly surprised to find that her dinner was not only edible, but actually freshly cooked, although the meat was a little overdone. “I hope it’s all right,” Cephia, on her right, said quietly. “I used to live on the Citadel, but I haven’t cooked levo in quite a while.”

“It’s good. Thank you.” Shepard was genuinely grateful for the consideration. Especially since she didn’t think it was a coincidence that the main dish for the rest of the group was some local game which was served nearly whole, in a manner which seemed almost calculated to disturb an unwary guest. And dinner was long, too, with multiple courses, one of which seemed to involve bone-crunching. Shepard maintained a polite expression as Garrus shot her an apologetic look across the table.

After dinner brought its own gauntlet; the adults retired to a second room for drinks, and Shepard found herself confronted by a series of older relatives, each of whom sat down next to her and proceeded to grill her. On her feelings about the Relay 314 incident. Her opinion of the late Councillor Udina. The Taetrus uprising. The role of the turian colonies in relationship to Palaven in general. What sort of policies she’d pursued as a Spectre.

“I don’t always have a very fixed notion of strategy,” she admitted to the last of these, an older uncle she thought was named Demetrus. “I’ve always found it essential to be able to adapt to conditions on the ground.”

He grunted in response. With all of these queries, her questioner was so impassive that it was awfully difficult to tell whether she was answering right or wrong, from his perspective. She glanced around the room for backup, and found that Garrus was equally pinned down on the other side of the room, locked into conversation with Livia herself. 

“You’ve unleashed the krogan on us, you know,” Demetrus said abruptly, drawing her attention back to him.

“The krogan were instrumental in the ground war on Palaven,” she returned. “It was General—well, Primarch, then—Victus’s idea to bring them in.”

“Victus,” he said with a dismissive snort. “Without the genophage, they’re going to overrun the galaxy in no time. No self control. All the other species are too diminished. There was no other way? You could not have promised the cure and then misled them somehow?”

Indeed, she could have, and she stared at him a moment, wondering if he somehow knew about the dalatrass’s offer. “That hardly seemed like an honorable way to treat a very necessary prospective ally,” she said. “I would have had to deceive the Primarch as well.”

She let the sentence hang there for a minute. Demetrus grunted again.

“Urdnot Wrex is also a personal friend,” she added. “We fought at each other’s sides when we were going after Saren—Garrus, and Wrex, and I. Deception seemed like a poor repayment for that friendship. Dr. Mordin Solus, who created the cure, was also a friend, and I trusted his ethical judgment.”

“Do you often make strategic decisions based on your personal friendships?” he asked, pale eyes narrowed.

Shepard opened her mouth and hesitated. What could she say to that, really? It was true that her friendships had directed the course of the war. But she was still confident that she’d made the right choices. 

“I’ll tell you what, I was damned glad to have the krogan leading the charge when we pushed Reaper forces out of Cipritine,” said Tycus, taking a seat beside Shepard. “Krogan ground troops and biotics, combined with turian pilots and support troops, made one hell of an effective combination. I think we’re better off with them than against them, uncle.” 

Demetrus grunted once more and stalked off toward the liquor cabinet. Shepard was hugely glad of the interruption. She glanced across the room and thought Garrus threw her a wink, and wondered if he had anything to do with his cousin’s sudden arrival.

“Don’t mind Demetrus,” said Tycus. “He’s contrary just for the hell of it.”

Shepard took a sip of her own drink. “Really.”

“Mm. You and Garrus are both crazy, you know.”

Shepard choked back a laugh. “Any reason in particular you say that?”

“This,” he said. “You don’t need to do this, with the grumpy old relatives. You don’t need to be one of the few humans ever to join a turian clan, and the first to join one this prominently placed. You know you could just live together, or even exchange vows with each other, without doing all this, right?”

“I know,” said Shepard. “But Garrus wants to do it this way.”

“Huh.” Tycus blinked at her, a little glassily, and she wondered how much he’d had to drink. “That’s... huh. I thought maybe you were trying to make a point, politics or something. But you’re just doing this for him? Huh.”

“Is that odd?” Shepard was curious about his puzzlement.

Tycus laughed a little. “Well, I figure Garrus really just wants the family to validate his life choices, after all the lecturing he’s gotten all these years. Didn’t know what was in it for you. I mean, I don’t care, you’ve got my yes regardless... ow!”

The _ow_ was in response to Solana smacking him in the back of the head. She said, “Tycus, you still can’t hold your liquor worth a damn. Why don’t you go sleep it off, hmm?” 

Shepard hadn’t heard her come up, either. Tycus retreated, muttering, and definitely weaving a bit. Solana turned toward her. “Are you all right, Shepard?”

“Yeah,” she said, feeling a little unsettled and abruptly very tired. “I think maybe I should get some sleep, too.”

“You sure?” Solana tilted her head sideways. “Don’t pay too much attention to Tycus. He doesn’t often know what he’s talking about.”

Shepard smiled, with some effort. “Yeah. I’m just pretty tired, after the trip up here.”

Solana helped her find her room again, which Shepard was grateful for. Once she’d gone to bed, though, she couldn’t seem to go to sleep. The bed should have been fine, a perfectly ordinary human-style (or asari-style, more likely) bed. The room was clean and tidy, though it had the vaguely stale odor of a room kept closed for a long time. She’d opened the window to let in some fresh air, since it had automated shutters programmed to close and block radiation once the sun rose, but the night seemed full of unfamiliar noises. Whatever Palaven had in the way of nocturnal birds and insects and other creatures, she supposed. She wriggled in the bed. Her right shoulder and her left knee were strongly reminding her that she still wasn’t fully recovered from her injuries, and no matter which way she turned, one or both of them ached. The bed seemed too large and too empty. She missed Garrus. She wondered if he was still up and still trapped with his great-aunt. If he were here, he’d be warm and soothing and help lull her to sleep. Shepard rolled over again and sighed. 

Alone in the overlarge bed, with the _scree_ of unfamiliar creatures outside her window, it was hard to keep her mind from wandering to her hazy memories of the end of the war, to the losses they’d suffered, to all the decisions she’d made and all the problems the galaxy still faced. Demetrus wasn’t entirely wrong, after all; krogan population growth could still become a difficulty, and how were the geth going to integrate into galactic society, and how would the quarians adapt to Rannoch, and... She’d managed to distract herself in the weeks since she’d awakened from her coma by concentrating on her worry for her missing ship and crew, and after that she’d had Garrus to distract her. Without some kind of distraction, her brain seemed to buzz with too many worries. They weren’t hers any more, she told herself firmly. She was on leave, she was getting married. She had a right to concentrate on her personal life for once, instead of shouldering all the cares of Citadel space.

She wondered if that was really true, and eventually sank into an uneasy sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Shepard woke up at sunrise when the automated shutters clanged shut. She dozed off and woke up again to the sound of rain beating against the window. She rose and dressed hastily, hoping she wasn’t missing breakfast or anything else important. While she had no real obligations at the moment, years of military service made her reluctant to sleep in. She left her room, hoping she could remember the way back to the kitchen, and nearly ran into Garrus in the corridor.

“Hey.” He put out one hand to catch her. In the other hand he was holding a steaming mug with a familiar aroma.

“Did you bring me coffee?” she asked, astonished.

“Yeah. I brought some down from the Normandy.” His mandibles twitched anxiously. “I don’t know if I made it right, but...”

She accepted the cup and drank eagerly. It was black and strong. Good enough. “It’s great. Thanks.”

“Good.” He looked relieved. “I know you usually get up earlier, but I thought you could use the rest.”

She smiled, even though she didn’t feel very well rested, and put her free hand on his arm. “Thanks. You’re the best.”

He looked closely at her and frowned. “Are you all right?”

She’d never been very good at hiding things from him, even back on the first Normandy. Back then, being her subordinate would have restrained him from inquiring too closely. These days it was harder to cover. “I’m fine. I guess I didn’t sleep that well.” She drank her coffee.

“You can go right back to bed if you want to,” he said.

She shook her head. “I’d rather have breakfast.”

Breakfast turned out to be an informal affair, with food and drink set out in the estate’s large kitchen. Several of the older relatives were standing as they ate, talking quietly to each other. Cephia was frying up... something... while also trying to keep Pella from running headlong into anyone as the girl dashed about with a toy cruiser. On seeing Shepard, she offered to make something fresh for her. Shepard looked at her harried expression and said she was happy to make her own. She was not a particularly good cook, but she could handle bacon and toast, which were easily provided. It was really a better start to the day than she’d feared.

Livia swept in just after breakfast, however, with a list of tasks to accomplish. She informed Shepard gravely that she had no idea what preparations Shepard wanted for her party, and Shepard found that everything from assigning rooms to the friends who were coming in for the wedding to planning the menu for that stage of the festivities was left to her. To complicate matters, the estate had only limited access to the extranet. Messages and queries were transmitted once or twice a day in bursts. Shepard wasn’t entirely clear whether this was due to the general state of post-war communications technology on Palaven, or to the resources of the estate itself. She knew she should be grateful that the place had its own well and generator, so electricity and running water were fairly secure. She _was_ grateful, but it was hard to adjust to having limited communications. So she started with making a list of everything she thought their guests might need. Given the state of affairs on Palaven, even finding appropriate sources for the arrangements was something of a challenge. With her list in order, she fired off messages to several turian suppliers, plus Liara, downloaded her incoming messages to her omni-tool, and turned the console over to Garrus.

She was glancing over her messages—newsy chatter from Liara and Tali, even though she’d seen them only a few days ago, and they’d be joining her on Palaven to help with the final preparations in a few weeks—when Garrus tensed and swore.

“What’s the matter?” she asked.

He sighed. “Victus wants me to go to Cipritine. Something about being a liaison between krogan units that need to get off Palaven and turian command.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I thought you took leave?”

“I did, but it’s awkward to turn down a personal request from the turian councilor.”

“Should I come with you?” The thought of some useful work to do made her feel a spark of interest, but also made her aware of how easily tired she still was.

“I don’t think so... He’s only requested me, and you don’t have the same standing in the hierarchy. Plus, if I take the small skycar, I can get there and back faster. And you’re still recovering.”

“Do you have to go right away? We just got here,” she pointed out, feeling more upset than she’d like at the prospect of being up here without him.

“I know, but...” He turned toward her and stopped short at whatever he saw on her face. “... I’ll tell him I can’t.”

Shepard flinched. Now she was just being selfish, making him disregard a request from the councilor. And Victus something of a friend; more Garrus’s friend than hers, honestly. “No, it’s all right. You should go.”

He hesitated, drumming his fingers on the desk. “I can tell you don’t want me to go. I’ll—”

“It’s all right,” she repeated. She got up from her chair and went over to him, rested her hands on his shoulders. She could see the anxiety and discomfort in his expression, the subtle tightness of his facial plates. “I mean, I’d prefer you were here, but I’ll be fine. I’m not going to keep you from doing what you need to.” She leaned down to press her brow against his.

His face cleared. “It should only be for a few days,” he said. “Sol will help you out, if you need anything.”

“She’s going to love your volunteering her for things.”

“She likes you,” he countered. His eyes flicked to the side. “I should reply to Victus, so it goes out in the current message queue.”

“Just one moment,” she said, and kissed him, slowly and thoroughly. “There. Now you can send your message.”

His eyes opened, a little unfocused. “Giving me some motivation to get the job done quickly?”

“Maybe a little. Remember, you promised me hiking. We should do that when you get back.”

“I do remember,” he said, firing off his message and closing down the console. “We’ll definitely do that.” He sighed. “Now I just need to tell Aunt Livia I’m leaving.”

Shepard trailed around after him as he sought out his aunt and sister and said his goodbyes. (Demetrus, seated near Livia, gave Shepard a triumphant look when he heard that krogan were involved.) Livia took it with good grace, saying approving things about duty; Solana was far more irritated.

“Do you really have to?” she asked, narrowing her eyes. 

“What, you want me to tell Councilor Victus no?”

Her eyes flicked to Shepard and back to Garrus. “No one can say you haven’t put in your service.”

“I’ll be fine,” Shepard put in. Even though she didn’t really want him to go, now she felt vaguely nettled at the idea that she needed him here. She could handle a whole crowd of Vakarians.

It wasn’t until after he’d gone, packing himself and one light bag into the tiny skycar, that she realized what really felt odd about this situation. This was the first time in her recollection that someone had specifically requested Garrus for a task and not her. She wasn’t quite sure how to feel about that. Part of her was relieved that she wasn’t completely essential to the fate of the galaxy, but some part of her felt a little left out, too. She also realized that she’d never gotten a straight answer from him about just what his current rank and status within the hierarchy were.

It was odd being at the estate without him. Especially in the afternoon. Turians ordinarily slept in multiple short bursts, so for a couple of hours she was the only person awake in a house full of sleeping turians. Garrus had spent so much time around humans, and Shepard in particular, that he’d adjusted his sleep schedule to more closely correspond to hers, but without him here, she was on her own. Since another of her messages had been from Miranda, reminding her to do her physical therapy, she found her way to the house gym and put herself through her paces. 

People were beginning to stir again by the time she was done, and it was getting late in the afternoon, so she sought out Cephia in the kitchen and offered to make her own meal, or help out some other way. Cephia accepted gratefully. Shepard wondered, but didn’t quite dare ask, why Cephia was apparently the house cook for the moment.

She heard a commotion from the front entrance, but was too busy chopping to go see what was up, so she was surprised when the kitchen door opened and an unfamiliar voice called, “So, you must be Commander Shepard. I hope you’re making enough levo food for two.”

Shepard looked up. The speaker was an asari she’d never seen before.

“Um... hi,” Shepard said, wiping off her hands. 

Cephia turned to face the newcomer. “Aspera! I didn’t know you were coming.”

Solana came in just behind the asari. “Shepard, this is our cousin, Aspera.”

“Cousin,” Shepard repeated, taking a good look. The asari was fairly tall, dressed in light, practical combat armor, and wore dark blue tattoos on the right side of her face that—yes—looked like a somewhat stylized version of Vakarian markings.

Aspera grinned and stuck out her hand. Shepard shook it, automatically, noting the strong grip and calluses of a soldier. “About two hundred years ago, a Vakarian had the poor taste to get involved with an asari commando, she had a daughter, and here I am. I’m not actually a clan member,” she added. “I don’t get a vote. I’m strictly here for moral support.” She picked up part of the onion Shepard had been slicing and cheerfully ate it raw before Shepard could say a word.

Livia marched into the kitchen then, stiff and dignified, to regard the asari with a grim expression. “Aspera,” she said forbiddingly. 

“Livia! There you are. Good to see the old place is still in good shape.”

Livia’s eyes narrowed. “I keep it well,” she said stiffly. “You can have your usual room, of course. I hope you won’t disturb Commander Shepard.”

“Oh, we’re neighbors? Of course we are, over in the guest wing. I’ll just go drop my bags and get settled in.” She went breezing out. Livia heaved a deep sigh and paced slowly away.

Once she was gone, Shepard, left with Cephia and Solana, said, “Okay... what? Livia obviously hates Aspera, but she gets put up as a guest anyway?”

Solana said, “It’s complicated.”

“I think some sort of deal was made,” Cephia added. “A couple of generations back. Aspera wouldn’t push for whatever inheritance rights she was due from her father, in exchange for getting to stay on clan property whenever she liked.”

“I think it may have been part of the terms of her father’s will,” said Sol. “She’s with a commando unit these days, but she comes by for a visit every couple of years or so.”

Aspera’s presence took some of the attention off Shepard that evening. Although Livia kept glowering at the asari, several of the older males, including Demetrus, seemed to get along well with her. Aspera told a string of stories about her activities for the last year or two, cheerfully including Shepard in the conversation. It was all surprisingly pleasant.

Less pleasant was waking up in near-total darkness, sweating, heart hammering, mouth dry. It took Shepard a few moments to recognize where she was: still in her guest room. There was a gentle knocking at the door. Shepard hauled herself out of bed, flicked on the light, and opened it, blinking in the too-bright lights.

“Shepard?” Aspera looked at her seriously, blinking herself. “You all right? I heard you thrashing around in here.”

“Bad dream,” Shepard said. “Not a big deal.” She couldn’t quite piece the dream together. She remembered Harbinger’s booming voice and the blare of attacking Reapers, but there’d also been something where Joker solemnly informed her he had a new synthetic body, and wasn’t that just great? It was fading. Just a dream, she told herself, not a memory.

“Uh-huh,” Aspera said. “Listen, you look like you could use a drink, and I’ve got a couple of bottles of Thessian rum in my room. Want to share?”

Shepard hesitated, but she didn’t really want to try to go back to sleep. “Sure.”

Aspera dragged in some extra pillows along with the rum, making the room’s stiff chairs a lot more comfortable. The rum was good. Their conversation started off tentatively, exchanging stories about training and service, but eventually Aspera said, “Lay it on me, Shepard. You want to know something about the Vakarians? I’m the one to ask.”

Shepard grinned. Might as well start with the big one. “Livia doesn’t seem to like you very much.”

Aspera laughed. “Livia... no. I was going to say she’s just old and cranky, but no, she’s never liked me very much. And now she really doesn’t like that I’m the only person left who remembers what a brat she was when she was little.”

“It must be weird, watching your cousins grow old while you’re still in your maiden years.”

Aspera shrugged. “A little. Asari have to figure out how to cope with these things. Some do it by just ignoring their non-asari family. Me, I’m stubborn. Maybe I got it from my dad, who knows. I keep coming back, I get to know each generation. And the current batch of young Vakarians, I like.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She grinned. “Well, obviously, so do you. Tycus is kind of an idiot, but he means well, and he’s good in a fight. Sol and Garrus are just excellent, all around, and Cephia has as big a heart as you’ll find anywhere. They’re a good lot. We get along pretty well.”

Shepard refilled her glass. “Do you know why Cephia is all—” she waved her hand, vaguely. “Cooking, and housekeeping, and whatever else. It doesn’t seem like the older relatives are actually incapable of taking care of themselves, so I don’t quite get it.”

Aspera took a drink. “Well, her husband just died,” she said matter-of-factly.

“And?”

“Oh. Grieving turians tend to want to _do_ shit. Keep busy. I talked to Cephia and I can see it. She’s pouring all her grief into taking care of her family. She might be overdoing it a little, but that’s not unusual.”

“Huh. Humans tend to think someone in mourning should rest, or have time to themselves, or something.”

“Asari tend to react that way, too. But no. Turians will throw themselves into work, or invent a project for themselves. A memorial for their lost one, sometimes. One advantage to that tendency right now is that there’s a hell of a lot of work to be done. No shortage of fitting memorials.” She hesitated, and then gave Shepard a very direct look. “Sometimes grieving turians will get themselves into something really stupid.”

“Oh?” Shepard felt herself tense.

“Yeah.” Her eyes fell. “I happened to be passing through Omega, must have been, oh, two years ago now.”

Shepard swallowed. “Really?”

“Yup.” After a moment, Aspera continued, “As you can imagine, I was pretty surprised to find a cousin there. Even more surprised when I found out what he was getting himself into. He had to talk pretty fast to convince me not to call Sol immediately.”

“Why didn’t you?” Shepard whispered.

Aspera leaned back in her chair and looked up at the ceiling. “Good question. I think it was mostly that he seemed so damn sure of himself. Burning with conviction. I told him to call me if he needed backup, and checked in a couple more times.” She grimaced. “I was otherwise occupied when things went sour, unfortunately.”

Shepard stared at the ceiling herself. Garrus still didn’t like talking about Omega, and he’d been vague when she asked what took him there in the first place. She hadn’t wanted to think it was... well, that it was about her. “You’re saying he went to Omega because of me. Because of my death.” She wondered if Solana had drawn the same conclusion.

“You said it, not me.” She paused. “It does seem like a logical conclusion.”

“I didn’t want to think it was about that,” said Shepard.

“Why, you’d rather think he makes a habit of running off on quixotic quests?”

Shepard raised an eyebrow. “Quixotic?”

“Shut up, I’ve read human literature. And answer the question.”

“I don’t take orders from you,” Shepard grumbled, but she thought about it. “No. I don’t know, I just... we weren’t together then. We were friends, we were closer than commanders and subordinates usually are, but the whole squad was close. It’s just weird to think I had that kind of effect on him, even then.” It made her throat feel thick and funny, actually, the idea that he’d been mourning her for two years and then picked things up without missing a beat once she came back. “Why are you telling me this, anyway?”

“Because turians are crap at talking about their feelings.”

“Garrus isn’t that bad,” she said, looking at her ring. “I’m kind of crap at talking about my feelings, too.”

Aspera snorted. “Why am I not surprised? You’re going to fit right in around here. But seriously, I thought you should know. That you’ve been important to him for a long time. Also, he is one of my favorite cousins, and if you break his heart, I _will_ kick your ass. I don’t care how famous you are.”

Shepard laughed. “That’s... actually very good to know. I’m not going to, though.”

“Good.” Aspera yawned and got to her feet. “Right, I’m going back to bed. Hope you sleep better this time around, Shepard.”


	5. Chapter 5

Nearly the first thing Shepard did in the morning was check her messages.

_Arrived safely. Miss you already. I’ll be back soon. G._

She smiled to herself. He was not exactly a talkative correspondent, but he got the essentials across. Actually, she reflected, they hadn’t had much opportunity to correspond. Those few weeks before the SR-1 went down, they’d exchanged casual messages, and there had been a couple of notes while she was under arrest, careful and bland because she knew all her mail was being screened. 

But usually, if she had something to say to Garrus, she could just find him and say it. She sighed, feeling lonely.

She went through the rest of her messages and queued up all the necessary replies. There were a couple of issues she still needed to figure out... like what she was supposed to wear for this occasion. She headed out to track down Solana. 

“Ugh, you do realize I’ve never done any of these things, right?” Solana said with a sigh. “I could help you mod your gun, if you want. I’d be better at that.”

Shepard laughed. It hadn’t really occurred to her that Solana was probably even less girly than she herself was. Whatever “girly” meant for a turian. “I can handle that myself. Or Garrus does it.”

“Let’s ask Cephia,” Solana suggested. “At least she’s been married.”

Shepard frowned. “That won’t be uncomfortable for her?”

“No, I’m sure she’ll be glad to help.”

According to Cephia, traditional garments for turian weddings were not a particular color or level of formality, but rather incorporated some kind of traditional knotwork. She got fairly enthusiastic about describing the technique, but the nuances were lost on Shepard.

“Plenty of people ignore traditions like that,” Solana put in, probably reacting to Shepard’s blank expression. 

“Oh, but it’s such lovely symbolism,” Cephia said. “It’s made of two kinds of thread, worked together to indicate two coming together.”

“That does sound nice,” Shepard said cautiously. “I’m just having trouble visualizing it.”

“Well, I can tell you what to ask for when you go to the tailor.” Cephia hesitated for a moment, and then brought up her omni-tool. “Here’s what mine looked like.” 

In the picture, both Cephia and her husband were wearing clothes made of this dark blue stuff that Shepard still couldn’t quite work out the details of. It seemed... fine, she supposed. She was more struck by the looks on their faces, leaning against each other with obvious happiness. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “You both look so happy.”

“Yes. We... were. That was ten years ago, now.” Cephia looked over into the next room, where Pella was lining up her toy ships, carrying on some inaudible monologue. “He was a shuttle pilot. Shot down on Menae.”

“I’m sorry,” said Shepard, her guts clenching. She knew this same story was playing out all over the galaxy. Everyone had lost someone: a spouse, a parent, a child, a sibling, a friend, all because of the stupid, pointless, destructive Reapers. And because the rulers of the galaxy had ignored her warnings, downplayed the threat, deliberately concealed information... yes, she was still angry about the Temple of Athame. She tried to choke down the anger rising in her throat.

“He died with honor, doing his duty.” Cephia’s voice broke her out of her reverie. The turian woman stared in her daughter’s direction, but didn’t seem to be really seeing her. “That doesn’t help as much as it should.”

Awkwardly, Shepard patted her on the shoulder. Solana came over and laid her cheek against her cousin’s, making a low trilling sound.

“Pella’s a lot like him,” Cephia said. “She wants to be a pilot, too. I just hope—” 

“I hope we’ll have peace for a good long time,” said Shepard firmly. She decided to change the subject. “I’ve been meaning to ask why Pella doesn’t have the same marks.”

“Oh, children’s markings are always simpler, and temporary,” said Cephia. “She’ll get the full adult set when she grows up and becomes an adult member of the family. She’ll have to go through the same ritual you will.”

“Oh... really? I guess I thought that was automatic.”

“It’s mostly a formality,” said Solana. “It’s pretty rare for adults not to accept a child of the family as an adult member. The kid would have to be one hell of a delinquent. I think in the old days it was a bigger deal.”

#

Garrus was gone for a few days, and, strange though it was, Shepard actually got used to being the only human in a house full of turians. She even settled into a bit of a routine. She did her physical therapy dutifully and answered her messages when the daily burst came through. She found she was starting to doze a little in the afternoon when everyone else slept. She made friends where she could. The older relatives tended to be reserved, but she enjoyed hanging out with the younger ones, especially Solana and Aspera (who wasn’t exactly younger, but... close enough). She offered to help Cephia with the chores, and when her help was refused, offered to look after Pella. She’d never really thought of herself as a kid person, but this kid was pretty pleasant company. Mostly she wanted to play with her toy ships and ask Shepard questions about all the ships she’d seen and served on. Shepard could handle answering questions and telling stories, and it was clearly a big relief for Cephia to have someone else keep an eye on her daughter. Even the evenings got better. Yes, Demetrus and a couple of the other older uncles started in on her about the krogan again, and eventually about the geth, but she found that if she redirected them just a little, they’d start arguing with each other instead of her. Some of them just liked to argue, period, she noticed. 

She felt like she might be remembering how to relax, and of course it was just when she was starting to feel more relaxed and comfortable that Livia Vakarian decided it was time for a chat.

“Commander Shepard,” she said, sweeping slowly into the sunny parlor where Shepard had settled down with a stack of things to read, and Shepard hastened to sit upright, scattering datapads around her.

She had no idea how to properly address the traditional great-aunt of your turian fiance, she realized, and settled for: “Ma’am?” 

Livia sat in a chair with wide arms and a high back which immediately looked like a throne. “I think it is time we had a talk. Unless you are occupied, of course.”

She was obviously not really busy. Shepard took a breath. _I am goddamn Commander Shepard_ , she reminded herself. _I am not going to let a cranky old turian lady intimidate me._ “I have time.” She ventured to add, “I appreciate your hospitality. It’s very kind of you to have me, and to let us use the estate.”

Livia folded her hands together. “It is no more than the proper behavior for a senior member of this family. Which is what we should discuss.”

“All right,” said Shepard cautiously.

“Exactly why is it that you wish to join this family? You are, I hope, aware that turian families, as collectives, have certain obligations to members.” 

“Yes, I’m aware.” Shepard gathered her thoughts. “My own family has been gone for years. Garrus and I hoped that when we came together, that I would also become part of his larger family. I’ve also benefited as a family member. Garrus’s father helped me when I was injured at the end of the war. I’d like to have the opportunity to give back.” She’d thought carefully about this answer over the last few days. After her conversation with Tycus, it had seemed important to have a better response prepared.

“I see.” Livia regarded her solemnly. “And why is it that you choose to pair with my great-nephew?”

And somehow Shepard wasn’t prepared for this one. A number of extremely inappropriate responses ran through her head, ranging from _none of your damned business_ to _seriously, have you **seen** him?_ “That’s a little personal, don’t you think?” she countered, trying to buy herself some time. “His father didn’t ask.”

“Callex may do as he pleases. And so may you. You do not have to answer my question, Commander.”

“Then why do you ask it?” Shepard snapped, letting her irritation show a little. 

“Let me tell you how this looks to an outsider, Commander.” 

“All right,” said Shepard, with an edge in her voice. “How does it look to an outsider?”

“It looks like a rather inappropriate tie between two people of disparate rank, one in direct command over the other. It looks like a possibly fetishistic association between two people of different species. It looks like a connection forged under conditions of great stress between one individual consistently noted for rash, headstrong, and impulsive behavior, and another individual known for making far-reaching decisions with little input from others. In short, it looks like a relationship unlikely to be stable in the long term.”

 _Do not_ , Shepard told herself, _do not rise to the bait_. Slow, deep breaths. She tried hard to keep herself calm. It was difficult, over the sizzling rage. _Do not attack your boyfriend’s elderly relative._ The idea was really tempting, nonetheless. But Livia was watching her dispassionately, and Shepard knew she was being judged. 

Finally Shepard said, conversationally, “You know, humans would consider it offensive to say much of what you’ve just said. But let’s leave that aside for now. You don’t really know me very well. Not well enough to be able to judge my actions. And I don’t think you know Garrus very well, either, family or not.”

“What makes you say that?” Livia’s face didn’t betray any response at all.

“I’ve seen his file, and I know the reputation you’re talking about. And Garrus says himself that he doesn’t think he’s a very good turian. But—” she leaned forward for emphasis, “—he is one of the best _people_ I’ve ever known. I’ve never had a better friend. I don’t know if you’ve ever had anyone in your life that you trusted completely, that you knew you could always rely on. Garrus has been that for me. I haven’t always been able to be there for him, but I plan to change that in the future. I can’t imagine anyone else as my partner in the rest of my life, and that is why I intend to marry him.”

Livia continued to regard her impassively. “I see,” she said. “Thank you for answering my question.”

Shepard decided to get out before Livia could say anything else painful and embarrassing. “If you’ll excuse me,” she said, and departed before Livia had time to answer. 

Her bad mood lingered, though, and she stalked through the house vacillating between several moods: indignation at what Livia had said, embarrassment at the sappy-ass speech she’d just spilled (even if all of it was true), and a paranoid fear that everyone else thought the same as Livia and was only being polite to her face. At length she found her way to a small courtyard and found Solana and Aspera in mid-conversation.

“Spirits, what happened?” Solana demanded on seeing her.

Shepard tried to control her scowl. “Your great-aunt cornered me.”

“I told you she was a brat,” said Aspera, reaching into her bag and producing a bottle of rum and glasses.

Solana asked, “Do you carry that everywhere?”

Aspera shrugged. “No, mostly just while I’m here.”

An hour later, Shepard had drunk enough rum to feel a little fuzzy around the edges and had eventually spilled the whole exchange. It was comforting when Aspera and Solana assured her that not everyone thought her relationship was doomed to be a flash in the pan, even if some little part of her suspected they were just placating her. Damn. She was being kind of a melancholy drunk at the moment. 

“I think… I want a nap,” she announced. 

Aspera grinned. “You might miss dinner,” she pointed out.

Shepard scrunched up her face. “I don’t want to go.”

“It’s probably better you don’t go if you’re drunk,” said Solana. “Why don’t you take that nap?”

“That is a brilliant idea,” Shepard declared.

She got herself back to her room, flopped onto the bed, and didn’t wake up until… she wasn’t sure how long later. A few hours. She felt a lot more sober, and her head didn’t even hurt that much. She took some aspirin anyway, and munched a ration bar she had stashed with her stuff, since she was pretty sure she had indeed missed dinner.

There was a knock at her door, and she hopped up to answer it. Probably Solana or Aspera coming to check on her. She still felt a little out of sorts. The bad mood faded into sheer delight once she had the door open, though.

“Garrus! When did you get back?”

“About ten minutes ago,” he said with a grin. “Things wrapped up a little sooner than I thought, so I decided to head back.”

She stepped forward and wound her arms around his neck. “Do you have any idea how happy I am to see you?”

He put on his serious face. “No, I have no idea. You might have to show m— _mph_.”

“That happy,” Shepard said, a little while later, letting him out of the kiss she’d yanked him into.

“Good to know,” he drawled back.

“I nearly killed your aunt Livia today.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time someone’s wanted to.”


	6. Chapter 6

“Listen,” said Garrus, “I want to hear about it, but I’d like to get some air. The air in Cipritine is still mostly smoke; I’ve been wearing my helmet nonstop. Are you up for a walk?”

Shepard grinned. “Absolutely.”

She hadn’t spent much time out of the house, and she followed along willingly as Garrus led them away from the grounds and up a slope. She was fascinated by the strangeness of the environment around her. She could hear the sounds of the wildlife, which had been becoming more familiar as she heard them through her windows. She still mostly couldn’t see the creatures that made the noises, though small things skittered across the path in front of her, too quickly to get a good look at them. The _skree_ and buzz faded around them, resuming behind them as they passed. None of the plant life looked familiar, either, everything with colors and shapes different than what she was used to. There were things with broad, silvery leaves, encroaching on the path, and other things with long slender tubes that swayed in the breeze. The sky was darkening and quite a few plants were unfurling blossoms with strong, sweet scents. 

They topped a rise and Garrus paused, turning to the left. Shepard followed and caught her breath. It had been a long time since she’d seen a planetary sunset. Trebia was low on the horizon, the sky around it streaked with red and orange and violet. Garrus’s arm slid around her and she leaned into him, watching as the color faded and the sky grew dark. “That was… spectacular.”

“Yeah,” Garrus breathed. After a second, he added, “It’s partly because of all the dust in the atmosphere, but the sunsets have always been beautiful from up here.”

Shepard leaned against him harder and wound her arm around his back. It couldn’t be any easier for him to see how the Reapers had devastated his world than it was for her to think about Earth. The region the old estate was in was sparsely populated enough that it hadn’t been hit as hard (which was why they could be outside without masks filtering the air at all), but that could only be so much comfort. “Anything else you want to show me?”

“Definitely, if you’re up for it.”

“I’ve been doing my physical therapy like a good little Spectre,” she said.

He smirked at her. “Glad to hear it.”

They walked along the top of a ridge for a time, the landscape spreading out vast and shadowy on either side of them. Strange tree-like things arched alongside the path, their bark glinting silvery in the moonlight. Eventually they came to a clearing, white stones forming a semicircle. Garrus settled down on the ground, and Shepard willingly followed. The ground still felt warm from the sunlight, and was carpeted with something springy like moss or grass that made it pretty comfortable. She leaned back on her elbows and looked up at the night sky. One moon was high in the sky already, the other just coming up over the horizon. “Which one is Menae?” she asked.

“That one,” he said, pointing to the lower. “If we had a telescope, we might be able to make out some of the installations.”

“That’s all right,” she said, remembering the sheer relief she’d felt at finding him alive and well in the middle of a war zone. She found his hand with hers and squeezed.

After a little while, he said, “So, what did Livia do to annoy you?”

She sighed. “It was… she asked why I wanted to join the family, and I answered that. And then she asked why I wanted to be with you.”

“Ah.” They were both silent for a moment. Garrus cleared his throat, and said, “And you told her you were blown away by my wit and charm? Or that you had a thing for scars?”

“Well, it sure wasn’t the mood music,” she joked. He started laughing, and she joined him, but something inside her felt squirmy at the direction the conversation had taken.

“Hey,” she said, when his laughter died down. She stared up at the higher moon. Nanus, that was its name. “You know I really love you, right?”

“I believe you’ve mentioned that once or twice,” he said, still chuckling. 

“I’m serious.” Shepard sat up and twisted around so she was facing him. “I gave her this giant speech about how you were my best friend and the only person I could imagine having as my partner. Oh, and I think there was something about perfect trust in there, too. But you’re the one who really deserves to hear it, not her. I really…” She swallowed, trying to keep her voice steady. “I don’t know what I would have done if I’d come out of that coma and you were gone for good. It was bad enough having the Normandy missing.” It had been bad enough watching him get hit by that rocket, before she’d understood how she really felt about him. 

He was looking up at her, but with his face in shadow so that she couldn’t see his eyes properly. He sat up, though, and pulled her into a firm embrace. “Jane,” he said, his voice low in her ear, “I love you, too. More than anything.”

She wasn’t quite done yet, and got out: “I hated not knowing if I’d ever see you again. The idea of having to put the galaxy back together without you—”

“I’m here,” he said, nuzzling into the side of her neck. 

She hugged him back, arms tight around his solid frame, pressing her lips to the side of his throat, the underside of his jaw, his mandible. It wasn’t long before their hands were wandering. Hers found their way under his shirt, fingers finding the gaps between his plates. His traced the soft skin of her back, the curve of her waist and hip, and the swell of her backside. She could hear his breath coming faster as she moved, and shifted her weight to lean over him properly, slinging one leg over his. He pulled her against him with a little growl that vibrated its way right through her, tight enough that she could feel the slide of his pelvic plates even through their clothing. Her breath caught. Her clothing felt suddenly too tight, too warm, too stifling. She scrambled to get her shirt and bra off, and Garrus was already working at her pants. She rose up to let him tug them down to her knees and stifled a moan when he took the opportunity to slide a finger into her.

Oh, he knew her body well by now, his finger working inside her, adding his thumb against her clit, first light teasing pressure and then firmer, faster; her hands were braced against his shoulders and his other arm around her waist, and he bent his head to swirl his tongue around her nipples, and finally her climax rolled through her, leaving her sweaty and trembling. It took a major effort not to just collapse bonelessly on top of him.

He relieved her of that effort, though, by rolling them over so her back was against the soft ground. She had just enough presence of mind to help with the catches of his clothes and finish shimmying her pants off. And then he was over her, his body hot against hers, his weight perfect, and she lifted her hips to meet him and he was deep inside her.

Her body felt pliant and heavy with release, but it didn’t take long for the sensation to start spiraling up within her again. Her hips found his rhythm, her hands pulled him down to her; she kissed, desperately, any part of him her mouth could reach, answering the light nips he left along her neck and shoulder. Her second climax drew all the breath from her lungs just after he reached his, burying his face against her shoulder, shuddering in her arms.

Shepard basked in the afterglow, unwilling to move. The air was warm, even at night, and heavy with the scent of green and blooming things she didn’t have any names for. “That,” she declared, “was also spectacular.”

Garrus laughed and rolled off her, propping himself up on an elbow. His face broke into a smile as he looked at her. “You’ve got _florastella_ in your hair.”

“What?” She put up a hand and, sure enough, brushed out a handful of little white blossoms with delicate pointed petals.

“They bloom at night,” he said. “Here, let me—” He combed his fingers through her hair, shaking out more and more.

“There’s no end to them,” she said, gathering a handful of them to her nose and inhaling. Ah, they were the ones responsible for that spicy-sweet scent she’d been noticing. Garrus was still working at her hair. She looked up through her lashes at him. “This is just an excuse for you to pet my hair, isn’t it?” He’d admitted to a fascination with her hair back that first night. She enjoyed indulging his desire to touch her hair, but she also enjoyed teasing him about it.

“Not at all,” he protested. “I’m just trying to get them all out.”

“Uh-huh.” She grinned up at him and shook her head vigorously, sending a shower of the little flowers everywhere. Garrus laughed again; Shepard tugged him back down to the ground so she could curl up against his warmth and look up at the two moons. He slid an arm around her, gathering her closer.

“You know,” she said after a while, “we’ve hardly ever spent any time together without the fate of millions hanging over our heads.”

“Hm. That’s true. Or billions, or trillions.” 

“I kind of like it.”

His arm tightened around her. “Good.”

“I mean, I would hate it if it turned out that we didn’t have anything to talk to each other about if there wasn’t an imminent crisis.”

“That would be unfortunate,” he agreed dryly. “I think we can manage to find things to do together.”

“Mm. Yeah.” She cuddled closer. She’d never really thought of herself as a cuddler. Maybe she had just needed the right person to cuddle with.

“Has anyone besides Livia been difficult for you?” There was a note of anxiety in his voice.

“Um... some of the uncles keep going on about the geth, or the krogan, or other policy issues. It’s tiresome, but not that bad. Solana’s been great, and I like your younger cousins. And Aspera.”

“Aspera’s here?” he said, sounding surprised.

“Yes. I woke her up, having a nightmare, and we talked for a while.” She was silent for a moment. “I’m getting kind of tired of sleeping alone.”

“Well... I could come join you.”

“That won’t make Livia mad?”

“It’s not like she checks on me every night. She’s probably never going to approve of either of us very much, anyway.”

“Does that—should I be worried about this family vote thing?”

“No. It’s mostly the older relatives who are here now, remember. Dad and his brother will come later, and others of his and our generation are still in service and aren’t here yet, either.”

“Okay.” Shepard tried to push her anxieties away. She had no control over it, really, so she shouldn’t worry about it. But she really hated not having control over things. She decided to distract herself with another issue. “Garrus?”

“Yes?”

“What do you want to do, after this?”

He sighed a little. “I actually wanted to talk to you about that. Victus offered me a job. More than one, even.”

“Oh, really?”

“He said if I still wanted to be a Spectre, that could be arranged. There were... a lot of Spectre casualties, in the war.”

“There were a lot of every kind of casualties,” Shepard said. She still felt the sorrow, but not as sharply, here and now.

“Yeah. Or... he said he could use an... attache, I guess. Or advisor, or assistant. Someone with a background in security and political connections.”

Shepard laughed. “I never saw you as a politician.”

He chuckled back. “I know what you mean. But with the task force, I learned a few things. And I’ve got one friend on the quarian Admiralty Board, and another who’s king of the Krogan. And, well, Dad’s the current Primarch. Don’t know if I could take it forever, but it would be varied work, and mostly on the Citadel. But it depends a lot on what you want.”

Shepard swallowed down a lump in her throat. “Garrus... it’s been really good to see you come into your own. My career doesn’t have to come first all the time. You should prioritize what you want.”

He turned his head and nudged it against hers. “What I want is for us to be together. But you’ve never said... do you even want to be back in action? If anyone’s earned a cushy retirement, it’s you.”

She surprised herself by saying, “I don’t know. I’m not sure what I want.”

They were both silent for a while. Then Garrus said, “Well. We don’t have to decide right now.”

“No.” She pressed her lips against his chest. “I’ll think about it.”


	7. Chapter 7

Things got easier, after that. If Livia noticed the fact that Garrus had more or less moved into Shepard’s room, she didn’t say anything. Aspera noticed, of course, but merely told them to keep it down. And Shepard found that she was much more relaxed with Garrus around. Her routine of messages and physical therapy and bumming around the estate was a lot more pleasant with him there too. She even found, one evening, that she’d just stopped caring whether the old turians now happily arguing about some aspect of rebuilding Cipritine approved of her or not. She’d been adjusting to living at the estate in general, but being able to spend time with Garrus just made her so _happy_ that it felt almost ridiculous. The galaxy was still riddled with problems and everyone in it was grieving and licking their wounds and trying to rebuild planetary infrastructure that had been literally pulverized. She was still grieving for lost friends herself. 

And yet she couldn’t help walking around with a stupid, giddy grin on her face most of the time. 

She tried to decide whether there was something wrong with her that the presence of one person could affect her mood that dramatically. She decided that it didn’t matter. She’d dated and flirted and been infatuated with people in the past, but she’d never really been _in love_. This wasn’t just about stress relief or not having anyone else to rely on, and she was going to enjoy it while she could, damn it. 

Garrus, bless him, did not push her for a decision about what she wanted to do with the rest of her life. He let her take time to think about it. She thought about a languid retirement. She thought about the public appearances and speaking opportunities that Hackett was not-so-subtly suggesting she consider. Both of those things might be okay for a while, but she’d probably get bored. She thought about going back into action as a Spectre, about trying to balance Alliance and Council authority against each other again. That had its own potential irritations.

What if Garrus became a Spectre, too? Equal authority, not subordinate—as if that had mattered much since the mission to take down the Collectors. She frowned, thinking about that. Would they have to work separately? Just about all of the Spectres she’d known had tended to work solo, as far as she knew—Saren, Nihlus, and Tela Vasir.

They were also all dead. There might be a connection there.

Not for the first time, she wished there was someone she could talk to about being a Spectre. There was no way she was going to ask Ash for advice on this one. Partly because Ash had been her subordinate; partly because she wanted to let Ash make her own mark as a Spectre; and partly because she was still irritated about Ash’s less-than-positive reaction to her engagement.

Hesitantly, she sent a message to Jondum Bau, the only other Spectre she knew well enough to approach for advice. She got a reply a couple days later:

_Commander Shepard:  
Glad to hear you’re recovering well. Each Spectre tends to have their own way of working. As you’ve noted, some do prefer to work alone; I myself know several other Spectres well, and we typically share intel and collaborate on missions. If I might hazard a guess what you’re thinking, there are also precedents for more durable partnerships: there were a pair of asari bondmates who served the Council well for over a century, for example.   
We could certainly use your skills, and I’d welcome a closer working relationship if you cared to have one._

Well. That was somewhat reassuring. She still hadn’t quite made up her mind what she wanted to do, but she had a better sense of what her options were.

#

Liara kept sending her ever-more-specific questions about the arrangements (flowers, music, menu, table decorations, on and on and on…). On most of these subjects, Shepard had very little opinion. She asked Garrus, but he was even more baffled than she was. She eventually sent Liara a message:

_Look, Liara, the wedding is mostly turian traditional, and for the reception I really just want plenty of food and alcohol and my friends. I’m not that picky about the rest of it._

Liara replied:  
 _You realize there will be consequences if you leave all the decisions to me._

Shepard returned:  
 _Come on, Liara, if I can’t trust you to make good choices, who can I trust?_

Liara sent back:  
 _All right, I’ll run things by you and Tali and I come. Only a few more days!_

Shepard blinked. She hadn’t realized how quickly time had passed. Tali and Liara were coming soon, which meant the event itself wasn’t that far away. She swallowed down her nervousness. Everything would go just fine, and if it didn’t, she was a competent adult who could deal with it.

Liara and Tali arrived in Liara’s private shuttle and had hardly gotten through the greetings (including Livia’s staid, formal, and thankfully, brief welcome) before Liara was setting up her own suite of communications equipment in her guest room.

“Don’t you ever take a vacation?” Garrus asked, surveying the ranks of monitors. 

“Certain matters are at a very delicate stage,” Liara replied loftily. “It’s important that I know what’s going on.”

He sighed and shooed off Glyph, which was hovering around them. “You do realize someone’s going to notice the massive power draw.”

“I’m running it off my shuttle’s power supply, Garrus. I know what I’m doing.”

Tali interrupted, “Well, I want a tour. Aren’t you going to show us around?”

The tour, and introductions to the various Vakarian relatives, led straight into dinner. It was only after that that Liara drew Shepard aside.

“All right,” she said, pulling out a datapad. “The first piece of business to deal with is: what are you going to wear?”

Shepard sighed. “Well, Cephia talked about some sort of traditional fabric, but Solana said it didn’t really matter, so I wasn’t going to worry about it—”

Liara regarded her, unblinking. “Yes, but what do you actually have to wear?”

Shepard squirmed. She had her Alliance dress uniforms and fatigues. She had some casual clothes, jeans and t-shirts, which she’d been wearing. She had precisely one dress, which she’d found in her closet on the Normandy after leaving Earth. She didn’t know who had put it there and she didn’t want to, because she’d have to think less of whoever it was for the rest of her life. The dress was black and horrifyingly clingy, concealing practically nothing, and was far more suitable for clubbing than a wedding. She would have set it on fire, but it was made of some weird synthetic material that might release dangerous contaminants into the atmosphere.

She explained all this to Liara. The asari nodded. “Well, it’s a good thing I made an appointment with a tailor. We’ll go tomorrow.”

“Wow.” Shepard blinked. “You’re really on top of things.”

“Of course I am, Shepard,” Liara said, with a little reproach in her voice. Shepard wondered when Liara found time to do all the wedding planning as well as being the Shadow Broker.

Tali was excited. “I’ll come, too,” she announced. “This is going to be so much fun, Shepard!”

Shepard was not entirely sure about that. She’d lived so much of her life in uniform that she didn’t have to buy clothes very often, and usually she liked to be practical and efficient about it. Once she’d found a shirt or pair of jeans that fit, she bought the same thing in several colors. Easier that way. The idea of trying on several variations of formal dress was a little daunting. Solana and Aspera opted out, and so did Cephia, though she looked regretful about it.

Which was how Shepard found herself in a dressing room, swathed in silver lace.

Lace. Cephia had used some word that the translator rendered as “knotwork,” but it sure looked to Shepard like lace, lots of it, and she panicked. But Tali and Liara between them talked her down. Tali couldn’t manage to get a call through to Solana, but the turian tailor listened to Shepard’s stammered list of concerns (she did not want to wind up looking like something that belonged on a parade float, oh no).

“You know, this will be an interesting challenge, clothing a human,” he said, and simply began ripping the lace off the dress. Tali squeaked. The tailor rolled an amber eye towards her. “Relax. It’s just basted on.”

They ended up with a design Shepard liked much better, much more streamlined, with touches of both silver and blue lace here and there for decoration. Liara proclaimed it flattering, and Shepard actually felt good in it. She couldn’t really run in it at full speed, but she could move around, which was critically important to her even in formal wear.

They ran a few more errands while they were in town. On the way back to the estate, they went over the list of guests and when they’d be arriving. Most of the human guests, plus EDI, would be coming together on the Normandy. Wrex and Bakara and Grunt were all coming. Jacob had sent regrets, because Brynn was too close to her due date to want to travel. A couple of people hadn’t sent replies yet; Zaeed hadn’t bothered to rsvp, which seemed entirely typical. There was also going to be a further influx of turians: Garrus’s father and several other relatives, Victus, and a handful of Garrus’s friends form the military and C-Sec. It was a lot of people to wrangle and keep civil to one another. Shepard decided to pretend that it was just like... coordinating a strike on an enemy base, or something. Only with more booze and fewer guns. At least, she hoped there would be fewer guns.

That was what was on her mind as Tali landed Liara’s shuttle back at the estate and she got out. It happened to be a gorgeous day, much cooler up here in the mountains than in the town, and Shepard stopped in her tracks when she realized that Garrus was playing with Pella on the lawn, picking up the girl and swooping her around in circles, with appropriate sound effects. The kid was laughing harder than Shepard had ever seen her, holding her arms out like wings and still clutching one of her precious toy ships. Shepard’s insides did something funny at the sight of them.

Tali murmured, “Have you thought about—”

Shepard shook her head, once. The only conversation she and Garrus had ever had on the subject had been in London, when they were trying desperately to cling to any potential future. “It seems a little early. And it’s not like biology will cooperate with us.”

“There are a lot of orphaned children in the galaxy, Shepard,” said Liara quietly. “Say the word and I’ll look into the possibilities.”

“Thanks, Liara,” she said. “Like I said, it seems early, but... I’ll let you know.”

Pella saw her then and demanded to be put down so she could charge over toward “cousin Shepard!” with her usual string of questions. 

Later that night, she lay in her bed, leaning on Garrus’s shoulder, and said, “Pella really likes you.”

She felt as well as heard his chuckle. “She thinks you’re the best thing ever.”

“Wait till she meets Steve and Joker.”

“Yeah, I think they might displace both of us.”

“Garrus?”

“Yes?”

She forced herself to say it. “Have you ever... thought about having children?”

“I—oh.” 

She almost laughed, because that particular nervous, startled tone went a long way back, back to _I didn’t think you’d feel like sparring_ , and she hadn’t heard it in a while. “Take your time,” she said.

He grumbled at her before saying, “I never thought that much about it. It never seemed like the right time, I didn’t have anyone I was serious about.”

“Yeah. Me too.” She laid her hand on his chest. “And now?”

“Now...” He hesitated. “Let’s take one thing at a time. I’d like to, someday, but... not just yet. Is that okay?”

“Yeah,” she said, sighing in relief. “That sounds just about right.”


	8. Chapter 8

After that, things seemed to move very quickly. Callex Vakarian was the next to arrive, looking weary and faintly harried, trailed by the staff and security that necessarily accompanied the Primarch of Palaven. There had already been security present, but staying in posts along the property’s perimeter rather than in the main estate house itself. Cassus Vakarian arrived around the same time; he was Callex’s younger brother, making him Garrus and Solana’s uncle, and turned out to be Tycus’s father, as well. Beyond that, he was so quiet and reserved that Shepard had very little sense of his personality.

Shepard wasn’t thinking too much about the security until she spotted the Primarch and the head of his security detail having a low-voiced conversation with Liara, of all people. Then she remembered, all too clearly, the death threat she’d received ages ago, and that her mail had been screened for that sort of material ever since. 

Of those three, she knew which one was going to be the weak link. She tracked down the asari in her room, surrounded by vidscreens, as usual. She closed the door behind her and crossed her arms. “Liara, is there something I should know?”

Liara started and stared at her with wide blue eyes. “What? I thought you wanted to let me take care of most of the details.”

“Not that,” said Shepard. “Any relevant security issues I should know about?”

Liara blinked rapidly. “Not at all, Shepard.”

The Shadow Broker still had a remarkably bad poker face. Of course, she didn’t usually deal with her contacts face to face. Shepard narrowed her eyes. “I don’t like being left in the dark, Liara.”

Liara sighed. “Of course I’m passing on information to the security team, Shepard, I just... didn’t want you to have to worry about it. I thought you should be able to enjoy the occasion.”

Now Shepard felt a little bad for pushing the point... but only a little. “I appreciate it, but if there’s some sort of threat, I’d rather know about it so I can be prepared.”

Liara nodded. “I understand. I have been looking into the various threats you’ve received, and frankly, most of them were... inconsequential. Ugly, but not dangerous. A few seemed more significant and have been dealt with. Now, as the date comes closer, I got wind of a more serious threat, some former Cerberus personnel. So I alerted the local security team. And Ashley’s out pursuing the threat. Some of the others are working with her. You really don’t need to worry about it.”

Shepard frowned. Part of her wanted to demand more information, press for details, gear up for combat. Liara must have seen it in her face; she reached out and put her hand on Shepard’s arm. 

“Please, Shepard,” she said. “You’ve done so much for all of us. Let us take care of this for you?”

Shepard gave in. “All right. But let me know if I need to bring my shotgun to the ceremony, okay?”

Liara smiled. “I will, but I don’t think that will be necessary.”

#

Shepard was heading back to the kitchen to check on food deliveries when she heard voices coming from one of the rooms lining the corridor. A murmur of low-pitched voices, and then Livia, sharply: “He has always been undisciplined. To what, exactly, should I attribute that?”

Shepard froze in place and stepped soundlessly to the wall, where she couldn’t be seen by anyone in the room. Ordinarily she wouldn’t eavesdrop, but they weren’t really making any real effort to be quiet. Callex was saying, sounding weary, “Garrus is his own person, Aunt Livia, and makes his own decisions. And his service throughout the war was exemplary.”

Livia sniffed. “Perhaps if you hadn’t married that woman—”

Someone inhaled sharply. Callex cut her off, his subtonals discordant, “You will _not_ speak about my _late wife_ in that manner.”

Shepard’s eyes widened. She’d known Livia had issues with both her and Garrus, but she hadn’t realized it went any further back.

“Nonetheless,” said Livia.

Callex growled. “This conversation is over.” He stormed out of the room and down the corridor away from Shepard, apparently not seeing her. 

A moment later, she heard another male voice inside the room. Cassus, she thought. “You shouldn’t have brought that up again. Maligning the dead is really beneath you, Livia.”

“I simply never understood the attachment,” she snapped. “Any more than I understand this attachment to a human.”

Cassus sighed. “I suppose you wouldn’t. Times change, Aunt Livia. Your life would be easier if you simply tried to accept that.”

Enough eavesdropping, Shepard told herself, and slipped back the way she had come so she wouldn’t have to pass the open door. Instead of seeking another route to the kitchen, she tracked down Garrus and Solana, hauled them into her room and said, “So, um, I gather Livia had some kind of problem with your mother?”

Both of them stared at her (with identical wide-eyed expressions that she’d have to tell Tali about later), and for a split second she had the awful feeling that neither of them had known. Then Garrus sighed, rubbing his forehead, and Solana growled, “Did she say something to you?”

“No, not at all. I, uh, overheard her talking to your father.”

“She said something to _Dad_?” said Garrus, incredulous, and Solana said something harsh-sounding that made Shepard’s translator hiss and crackle.

“That’s it,” she bit out, “she and I are having a talk.”

“I think your uncle is already talking to her,” Shepard said hastily. “I’m sorry, I... maybe I shouldn’t have said anything.” Or been listening in the first place, she thought ruefully.

Garrus had his hand on Solana’s arm, preventing her from rushing out the door immediately. “No, Jane, it’s not your fault. Sol, you know talking to her won’t do any good. If she wasn’t going to change her mind in forty years, she’s not going to change it now.”

Solana sighed, and the tension left her frame. “It would make me feel better, though.”

Garrus managed a faint smile. “That sort of thing is how I get in trouble, not you.”

“I just didn’t realize there was some older issue here,” said Shepard.

The two turians looked at each other. “Every family has its issues,” Solana said.

Garrus added, “There’s nothing scandalous. Livia just never thought Mom was a good enough match. Not disciplined enough, too... adaptable, I guess? Not just Livia, some of the other older relatives too, but I think she’s the last of them. She thought Mom was... over-tiered? I’m not sure how that translates into your language.”

Solana explained, “She thought Mom’s citizenship tier gave her more responsibility than she was capable of, and that it was only a matter of time until she screwed up and got bumped down a tier or two.”

Shepard said, cautiously, “I thought that sort of problem was only supposed to reflect on the ones who promoted someone incorrectly.”

“Yeah, in theory,” said Solana. “Even a meritocracy doesn’t work perfectly.”

Garrus added, “I suppose I should have told you before, but... you should know that whatever happens with us isn’t necessarily about either of us, really.”

Shepard nodded. “I’m starting to get that.”

#

The Normandy brought the last contingent of guests, or rather its shuttles did. James caught Shepard in a bone-crushing hug that made her very glad she’d recovered from her injuries. Samantha Traynor babbled a greeting to Shepard before disappearing with Liara for the rest of the night. Dr. Chakwas looked her over and nodded approvingly over her condition. Shepard found herself frustrated that she didn’t have time to catch up with everyone about what they’d been doing in the last few months—and she hadn’t had enough time to talk to Wrex or Bakara or Miranda either, even though they’d arrived a few days previously—because there were just too many people to keep track of. There would be more time to talk tomorrow, after the ceremony, she reminded herself.

She did have time to make sure of a couple of things.

Pella stared up at Joker with her eyes bright and her mandibles utterly slack. “Are you _really_ the Normandy’s pilot?”

He adjusted his cap, looking at Shepard nervously. “Uh... yeah...”

“Oh! Oh!” The girl fired off a barrage of questions that Shepard couldn’t really follow herself, and Joker’s expression rapidly took on a shade of panic.

“Whoa, whoa, slow down,” he said, narrowing his eyes at Shepard.

She leaned over and whispered in his ear, “She’s always wanted to be a pilot, just like her father. Who died in the war. Be nice.”

His expression softened as he looked down at the small turian, and he sighed. “Okay, kid. Let me sit down, and you go get me a beer, and I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”

Shepard watched them go with a smile of satisfaction. EDI, who’d somehow come up behind her without Shepard noticing, said, “Would it not be considered inappropriate in human culture for a child to serve alcoholic beverages, Shepard?”

“She’s not going to drink it herself, EDI. I think it’ll be fine.”

“I see,” said EDI. “Thank you for the invitation, Shepard. I look forward to observing so many examples of social interaction.”

Later, Shepard sidled up to Ashley. “Hey, Ash,” she said quietly. “Liara said you were, ah, looking into something for her?”

Ash gave one decisive nod. “It’s taken care of, Skipper. Don’t you worry about a thing. Jack and I dealt with it.”

“Damn right we did. We showed those bigoted assholes,” Jack said, having appeared at Ashley’s elbow, and the two women exchanged a smirk, clinking their glasses together. Shepard thought about that and decided that the idea of Jack and Ashley working together made her brain hurt. 

“Thanks,” she said. “I appreciate it. I know you weren’t sure about this, Ash, and...”

Ashley frowned. “Well, hell if I’m going to let anyone else ruin the festivities. You should get some rest, Shepard, it’s getting late and you’ve got a big day tomorrow.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Wedding Day: Part 1: Promises**

Liara and Tali wound up recruiting Ashley to help fix Shepard’s hair in the morning, since neither of them had that much experience with it. Her hair had gotten long over the last few months, and wound up in a fairly elaborate knot, high on her head, with loose tendrils framing her face. Tali adjusted the last bit of trim on the gown. “There,” she pronounced. “You look perfect.”

Shepard glanced in the mirror and hardly recognized herself. She was wearing very little make-up, just a touch of color at her lips and eyes, and that suited her fine. But the hairstyle was like nothing she usually wore, and the dress had turned out... really quite nice. In the mirror, she looked like a tall silvery column, but the skirt had all sorts of hidden drapes and folds that made it easy to move in. The neckline showed off her neck and shoulders, and that lace, blue and silver, was used sparingly as trim.

“Good, because it’s time to start,” said Liara.

Shepard nodded and walked out, reminding herself not to stride as if she were wearing combat armor. She wore dresses so seldom that she sometimes forgot how to walk in them. She shortened her step just a little, looked around... and there was Garrus, also in blue and silver, and minus his visor. She’d seen him without it by this point, but never in public. She broke into a grin and waved. “Hey, you. Looking good!”

He turned toward her, and his mandibles fluttered. He opened and shut his mouth a couple of times, but it took him multiple tries to get out, “You look... gorgeous. Not that you don’t always,” he added hastily.

She grinned, and felt herself blushing. “Thanks.”

Contrary to the traditions she was used to, they went side by side into the large room where the guests had gathered.

The wedding part, really, was simple. They stood facing each other, not touching, with a circle of witnesses around them. There was no presider or minister or judge who married them; they married each other, simply making promises in the sight of witnesses. Their friends. His family. Tali and Liara were behind her to her left and right, as if they were on a mission together.

The vows were traditional turian ones, because they both liked the wording. She listened to his voice, almost not hearing the words, and she made the same promises: _fidelity_ and _honor_ and _caring_ and realized that these vows almost didn’t matter at all. Because they were essentially the same as the promises they’d already made to each other and fulfilled, in word and deed, over and over again. The only difference is that this time people witnessed their words and recorded the act, a fixed point of data: _Jane Shepard and Garrus Vakarian belong together_.

It wasn’t a human ceremony; there was no kiss. But at the end, they took each other’s hands, forming a circle with their arms. From the witnesses behind her she heard some whooping, and she stifled a grin. Among the side of the circle she could see, Pella was bouncing up and down, and Aspera was grinning, and even Callex had a faint smile, she thought. Any nervousness she once had had faded entirely, dispelled by the warm, dry, strong grip on her hands and the look in Garrus’s eyes.

“Ready for the next part?” he murmured, and just like that the timeless bubble she was standing in popped and the apprehension returned.

“As I’m going to be,” she said. He squeezed her hands and they stepped to the side. The next part, the clan-joining, was only for voting family members, so the other guests filed out, but not before forming an impromptu receiving line, a series of hand shakes and congratulations that passed in a blur. Damn it, she hadn’t meant to tear up over this. Liara kissed her on the cheek; Tali gave her a rib-crushing hug; Aspera clapped her on the shoulder and whispered, “Good luck,” while herding the younger Vakarian kids out of the room in front of her. The door shut behind them, and Shepard found herself the only human in a room full of turians in matching blue paint. She took a deep breath.

 

**Wedding Day: Part 2: Family**

As she looked around, most of the faces were serious, but Solana gave her a brief, encouraging nod. Shepard tried to hold on to all the reassurances they’d been giving her all along, as Garrus spoke.

“You know why you’re here,” he said, “but I’ll say it anyway. I come before you as a member of the Vakarian family. You just saw me exchange vows with this woman, Jane Shepard. I’m now requesting for her to join this clan, with all the rights, privileges, and responsibilities that accompany that status, and I ask for your assent.” He inhaled deeply, and Shepard squeezed his hand, hoping that would provide a little comfort. He squeezed back slightly and continued, “I’m aware this is... a little unconventional. So I’d like to state that Jane Shepard has a commitment to duty that most turians can only aspire to have. As a commander, she is not only brilliant, but exhibits a caring and responsibility for her subordinates far beyond that of most turian officers. She has shown respect for every species she interacts with. And I am honored beyond words that she has agreed to join me, and to join this family. So.” Another deep breath. “As the petitioner, I cast my vote, and obviously I vote yes.” The VI console recording the votes chirped in acknowledgment.

The room seemed to be swimming now. Shepard blinked repeatedly, trying to control the tears filling her eyes. Garrus told stories; he didn’t make speeches, and she hadn’t expected this heartfelt little statement.

Solana cleared her throat and stepped forward. “I suppose I’m next. I don’t have much to say, really, except that I have gotten to know Jane Shepard over the last few months, and I’m proud to call her my sister. I assent.”

Garrus’s father took the floor. “I think it falls to me to speak next,” he said, in his usual level tone, and Shepard felt a moment of sheer panic, a completely irrational fear that he was about to revoke his support in the most public and painful manner possible. But he said, “Several of you have... questioned... me about my support for this. And I recognize that admitting someone not turian to the privileges and obligations of the clan is... less than traditional. And yet.” He looked down and took a breath. “Given her accomplishments and reputation, I think it is difficult to argue that Shepard is not worthy of joining this clan. I have every confidence that she will take the resulting commitment seriously.” He looked up again. “I have also heard some criticism of my son for even raising the issue. Those of you who have made these remarks to me would do well to consider that the person who brings his new spouse before you today is not the young person we chided for rashness some years ago, but an adult who rightfully has earned the respect of the Hierarchy, the Council, and the rest of the galaxy. I have made my share of mistakes, as a parent, and I have learned that I should trust my son. I assent.”

Shepard glanced sideways at Garrus, who was struggling to conceal an expression that she couldn’t quite read. She held his hand a little tighter.

The tapping of Livia’s cane on the floor drew her attention back to the gathering. “As the senior family member present, I claim the right to speak next,” she said. “It is all very touching, what we have heard today, but I feel it is my duty to remind the family members assembled here of other truths. That humans are yet newcomers to the galactic scene. That they have been unpredictable and aggressive. I am sure I am not the only one of us who remembers fighting against humans, not so many years ago. Commander Shepard, whatever her accomplishments, has a record clouded in secrecy and marred by incidents in which she took major decisions into her own hands. None of us, here, are strangers to combat. None of us are unfamiliar with the passions that can sometimes arise among comrades-in-arms. And all of us are well aware that such passions rarely stand the test of time. These are among the reasons I consider it my responsibility to deny this request.”

She stepped back with a last firm rap of her cane. Shepard slowly exhaled. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t expected approximately this from Livia. Glancing around, it was hard to tell what impact her statement might have had.

Cassus Vakarian was the next to speak. “Aunt Livia, as usual, reminds us of traditions and practicality.” He spread his hands. “I would like to remind you, cousins, aunts, and uncles, that we are facing a new era. Every species in the galaxy has suffered greatly. There is a great deal of work to be done, on Palaven, on Earth, and throughout the galaxy. In times like this, it is tempting to cling to the old and familiar. But I believe that our future lies in working together. I assent.”

After that, the voting went quickly. None of the other family members felt the need to make a speech, apparently, but simply stated their assent or denial. Shepard felt her anxiety climb as the console recorded each vote. She knew there were a lot of ‘yes’ votes, but there were a fair number of ‘no’ votes, as well, and she didn’t know the weighting system well enough to feel reassured. The only thing she had to go on was that Garrus seemed calm, but then again, that was usually the case. She did notice that what Solana and Garrus had told her before seemed right: the younger members of the family, like Tycus and Cephia, generally voted in favor. Those of the next generation older, Callex and Cassus’s cohort, were a bit more split, but also tended to assent. It was the oldest generation that was most likely to vote no. Even some of those aging aunts and uncles voted in support. Demetrus did, for one, with a nod in her direction. 

After the last person had voted, the VI took only a moment to calculate. Shepard held her breath as it announced, in its bland, synthetic voice, “Votes are calculated. 56 points assenting to the proposed joining, and 39 denying. Jane Shepard is permitted to become a full member of the Vakarian family.”

All her breath left her in a whoosh, and she heard Garrus sigh next to her. Shepard looked around until she found Livia in the group. The old turian’s expression was stony. She caught Shepard’s eye before turning away and walking out, followed by a few of the other older relatives. Callex quickly stepped forward. “Then I am pleased to welcome you formally to the family, and to remind you of the privileges and obligations you hold as a member...”

Shepard was not entirely paying attention to the list of clauses that ensued, though she nodded and agreed to each of them. She had read them all before, but now her heart was racing. They’d actually done it, and it felt like a real victory, without the edge of desperation that had dogged every successful mission during the war. 

She made an affirming noise in response to the last clause and turned to find Garrus with a brush and a jar of blue paint in his hands. The stuff turians used themselves wasn’t either tattoo ink or make-up as humans understood them, but rather a pigment that formed a bond with the surface of their plates. It couldn’t just be washed or sweated off, though it could be removed through use of a different chemical. If Shepard were turian, undergoing this rite, she would have removed her former markings to signify her willingness to join the clan. As a human, she’d just left her face clean. They were using a different, temporary paint, too, because turian paint would leave her with nasty caustic burns on her face. 

She stood still while Garrus marked her face, feeling the cool sweep of the brush against her skin, under her eye, along her jaw. She watched his eyes, sharp and intent, until he finished; then his whole expression softened. He put the brush and paint aside and laid one hand on her shoulder to present her to the crowd; and for the second time that day, time turned into a blur of welcomes and congratulations. Cephia gave her a hug, to her surprise, and Solana whispered in her ear, “I told you not to worry.” She nearly lost Garrus entirely in the crowd, but found him back at her side in the end.

“Happy?” she murmured.

He slid an arm around her and reached for the door with the other. “You have no idea.”

They opened the door and went out into the party, and Shepard was nearly deafened by the cheer.


	10. Chapter 10

**Wedding Day: Part 3: Party**

This was the part Shepard had cared the most about and spent the most time on. There was food, plenty of it, all her favorite dishes. She had no idea how Liara had managed to have thousands of shrimp, plus everything else, shipped to Palaven, but somehow the Shadow Broker had managed. There was a sound system, too. Shepard hadn’t put much thought into musical selections, so Joker had simply commandeered the set-up and hooked it up to his own personal collection, until Tycus joined him, at which point the two of them got involved in an animated discussion of the relative merits of their own favorite bands. There was liquor, quite a lot of it. In fact, she was pretty sure she hadn’t actually ordered all of that. “Where did all these kegs come from?” she asked Tali quietly.

“I brought it,” Zaeed said from behind her. “Thought you were having a goddamn party, Shepard.”

“Zaeed, how did you get in here? You never even told us you were coming.”

He shrugged and swaggered off. Tali said nervously, “I vouched for him, Shepard. I hope that’s all right.”

Shepard sighed, watching Zaeed and Wrex size each other up. “Yeah, that’s fine.”

#

She told Bakara, “I’m really glad you came. I know it must be hard to get away with new babies at home...”

Bakara cut her off, firmly. “Shepard. I wouldn’t have missed this for anything. Besides, someone had to keep Wrex and Grunt from causing a diplomatic incident.”

Shepard cast a nervous eye at the two male krogan. They actually seemed to be getting along fairly well with both human and turian guests. 

“It’s a pity Mordin couldn’t be here,” Bakara continued.

Shepard sighed at the thought, and then grinned. “Did I ever tell you about the, ah, relationship advice he gave us?”

#

Shepard got distracted from the baby pictures Bakara was showing her when a familiar slim form flitted past. “Hey, Shep. Congratulations.”

“Kasumi?” she said incredulously. “I didn’t know you were coming, either. How did you get in—wait, never mind.”

Kasumi grinned under her hood. “Come on, Shep, I wouldn’t miss this.” She patted Shepard’s shoulder. “I left your wedding present in your room.”

“Kasumi, for the love of God, tell me you didn’t steal some priceless work of art.”

“Would I do that?”

“Kasumi—”

“Okay, I’ll tell you that, if you tell me who that very fine specimen of masculinity is.”

Shepard looked in the direction indicated and sighed. “That would be James Vega.” 

“Mm. Thank you. I didn’t steal some priceless work of art for you.” Kasumi ghosted off through the crowd.

It wasn’t, technically, a piece of artwork. It _was_ a pair of extremely expensive rifles. Prototypes, not available on the market yet. Shepard decided she really didn’t want to know.

#

Partway through the evening, Shepard found herself facing a mirror. She’d been so busy talking to everyone that she’d almost forgotten the paint, and her eyes widened as she took in the blue lines on her face. Familiar enough, but altered to fit the different proportions of her face; still, she knew the curve under the eye, the matching curve along the jaw. She turned her head from side to side, checking it out from different angles. She hadn’t made up her mind whether to wear the marks all the time—Garrus said he didn’t mind if she didn’t—and she still wasn’t quite sure. It looked odd, the dark blue a contrast with her skin, and the color didn’t bring out her eyes the way it did his. Something about it looked right, all the same. She touched her cheek, pondering, and grimaced as some of the blue smeared off on her fingers. A better grade of paint, maybe. Or maybe someday she’d get over her weird squeamishness and go for the full-blown tattoos.

#

“So, Scars. Your sister. Is she, uh, single?”

Garrus’s brow plates twitched upward. “As far as I know, yeah.”

“She have any interest in humans?”

“I have no idea. You know what, Jimmy, you take your best shot.”

James looked surprised. “You wouldn’t mind?”

Garrus shrugged. He’d given up on trying to understand the conventions of human courtship. “I’m pretty sure she can take you down if she needs to.”

Solana’s expression when James went up to her was priceless. 

#

Shepard saw Cephia engaged in intense conversation with one of Garrus’s old friends from C-Sec, and wondered where Pella was. She found the girl listening to Steve Cortez with rapt attention. Steve caught her eye and smiled before turning his attention back to the child. He’d be a good dad, Shepard thought, and hoped he’d get the chance.

They all had chances now, to do whatever they chose. As she looked around the room, it was impossible not to imagine the friends she wished were there: David Anderson, Mordin Solus, Thane Krios, Kaidan Alenko (now three years gone), Samara, Javik. There was not a person in the room who had not lost someone in the last few months. That terrible night in London, she hadn’t truly expected she’d ever see a day like this one. Yet somehow, here they all were. Her friends, her family: the family she’d built on the Normandy the last few years, the family she’d just acquired, against all odds. They’d all been fortunate to survive. And survival brought with it possibilities, opportunities.

#

“You still owe me an answer,” Victus told them mildly, glass of wine in hand. 

“Just taking our time thinking it over,” Garrus replied.

A couple of nights before, Shepard had said, “Okay. You’ve got these two positions offered. What do you want to do?”

He fidgeted. “It really does depend on what you want, Jane—”

She shook her head. “I don’t want to pressure you one way or the other, and have you regretting that or resenting me.”

“I wouldn’t resent you. But I don’t want to push you, either.”

“Okay. Here’s what we’ll do: you write down your preference, and I’ll write down mine. We’ll reveal them at the same time, and then we can talk about it.”

When they did the reveal, they both burst out laughing, because they’d both written _Spectre_ large and clear. Garrus said, “Not that Victus’s offer wasn’t tempting, but I’d like to give this a go at least once.”

Shepard said, “Yeah, and I don’t think I’m ready to retire yet.”

She told Victus as much, and he sighed. “I can’t say I’m surprised. Don’t think you’re getting out of giving me advice, Vakarian.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Councilor.”

“You can have mine, too, if you promise to actually listen,” said Shepard.

“I would hardly dare to do anything else,” he replied, dryly.

# 

Miranda drifted by with a drink in her hand. “You look well, Shepard,” she commented. “Have you been doing your physical therapy?”

“Yes, mom,” Shepard returned. 

Miranda rolled her eyes. “Fine. Be more careful in the future, will you? I don’t want to have to put you back together again.”

“Noted,” said Shepard. “How are you doing, Miranda?”

“I’m... all right,” she said, looking off across the room. “It’s strange. With my father gone, and without Cerberus...” She shook her head. “It’s just strange.”

Shepard thought she got it. Miranda was a driven person, ordinarily, and now needed a new purpose. “Cerberus isn’t completely gone, I don’t think,” she said. “We could use your help to find the old bases and projects.”

“I’ll think about it.” She started to move away.

“Miranda,” said Shepard, in a rush. She hadn’t always gotten along with the woman, but she needed to say this. “Thank you. For everything.”

Miranda smiled. “It has genuinely been a pleasure, Shepard.”

#

At one point, most of the older generation had retreated, and the dancing got pretty frenetic. Shepard stayed out of it for the most part, herself, but Aspera and Ashley and Jack and James and Solana had gotten into some kind of competition, almost. Shepard couldn’t tell which one had ended up the winner. 

By the end of the evening, most of the guests had stumbled off to their rooms. Or occasionally, not their own rooms, which was not one bit Shepard’s business. She had been glad, honestly, to see Ken and Gabby leave the party together, and beyond that she’d mostly tried to avoid noticing who was hooking up with whom. There were a couple of people left, here and there; Tali and Joker were quietly talking in a corner, and a few others seemed to have fallen asleep in their seats.

She recognized the footsteps coming up behind her, even without being able to see him, and she relaxed and leaned back into Garrus when his arms slipped around her waist. “It was a good party,” he said, voice rumbling low in her ear.

“No party like a Normandy party,” she said, quoting James’s shouted declaration, some hours earlier.

She felt as well as heard his chuckle. “What do you say we get out of here?” The day’s schedule had been so packed that they’d be spending the night at the estate and taking a shuttle out in the morning for a brief private getaway. In spite of the fact that every guest room at the estate was occupied, his voice had dropped into its lowest, most seductive registers.

Her lips curved into a smile. “I don’t know,” she said. “I’m told when you’re married, your sex life goes right down the tubes. Boring. Infrequent. No fun any more.”

“Hmm,” he said, right in her ear, warm breath and vibration against her neck. “I think that’s one human truism we need to test out.”

She shivered, reaching up and behind to slide one hand along the back of his neck. “You’re on.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple of quick notes: I mention a couple of characters as being deceased, which is partly because it seemed unrealistic for all Shepard's close associates to survive that night in London, and partly because I didn't have a good handle on those characters' voices. Sorry if they were your favorites. 
> 
> This series is probably not over; I may post some related vignettes and even a full sequel at some point. Thanks for reading!


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